LIBRARY) 

Ul  .  YOF 

vJL_._flJ 


Time  and 
Chance 


/ 

A  Romance  and 
a  History  :  Being 
the  Story  of  the 
Life  of  a  Man 


By 

Elbert  Hubbard 


Author  of  "Little  Journeys,"  "No  Enemy  but  Himself,"  etc 


G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 

New  York  and  London 

Umfcfeerbocfeer 

1901 


COPYRIGHT,  1899 
BY  ELBERT   HUBBARD 

REVISED  EDITION 

COPYRIGHT,  1901 
BY  ELBERT  HUBBARD 


TTbe  *nfcfterbocfter  prese,  flew  B?otft 


/  returned,  and  saw  under  the  sun,  that  the  race  is 
not  to  the  swift,  nor  the  battle  to  the  strong,  neither  yet 
bread  to  the  wise,  nor  yet  riches  to  men  of  understanding, 
nor  yet  favor  to  men  of  skill,  but  TIME  and  CHANCE  happeneth 
to  them  all. 


CONTENTS 


BOOK  I 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I. — AN  EARLY  MORNING  WEDDING 3 

II. — THE  JOURNEY  BEGINS      .......  6 

III. — A  DAY  OF  INCIDENTS       .......  9 

IV. — LITTLE  JOHN  MAKES  A  CAPTURE 14 

V. — As  TO  JEDEDIAH — A  DIGRESSION    .....  20 

VI. — AN  EMERGENCY  WELL  MET     .         .        .        .        ,         .24 

VII. — JOY  ABIDETH  BUT  A  DAY        ......  31 

VIII.— :A  VIGIL  WITH  DEATH 36 

IX. — SORROW'S  RESPITE  FOUND  IN  WORK       ....  37 

X. — CONFORM  OR  FIGHT         .......  42 

XL — MAN  PROPOSES,  I;UT  WOMAN  DISPOSES    ....  47 

XII. — PIONEER  DAYS  AND  A  NIGHT  ALONE  IN  THE  WOODS       .  52 

BOOK  II 

I. — A  CATTLE  SALE  AT  ZANESVILLE 61 

II. — JOHN  BROWN  FINDS  FRIENDS  AND  FOES   .         .  65 

III. — OLD  BLACKFOOT  FOILS  AN  AMBUSCADE     ....  76 

IV.— THE  DEACON  DOES  A- WOOING  Go 83 

V. — JOHN  MEETS  TROUBLE,  AND  FACES  IT  .         .        .90 

VI. — A  LITERARY  COURTSHIP 98 

VII. — A  HORSE-BACK  RIDE  THROUGH  THE  WOODS     .        .        .  106 

VIII. — THE  RIDE  EVOLVES  INTO  A  HORSE-RACE          .        .        .no 

IX. — THE  WINNER  WINS  A  HORSE  AND  FREEDOM     .        .         .115 

X. — MORE  RUNAWAYS  ARRIVE 123 

v 


vi  Contents 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XL — THE  SLAVES  RETAKEN,  WITH  ONE  WHITE  MAN  OVER  .  128 

XII. — JOHN  AND  JIM  MAKE  A  HASTY  DEPARTURE       .        .         .  136 

XIII. — VACANT  PLACES,  YET  THE  OLD  WORLD  GOES  ON      .         .  140 

XIV. — EXPLOITING  THE  PUBLIC  AND  PROSPERITY        .        .        .  144 

XV. — QUIETING  QUALMS,  AND  MORE  ADVENTURE       .        .         .153 

XVI. — TRAGEDY  CAMPS  ON  THEIR  TRAIL     .        .        .        .        .  iGi 

XVII. — THE  DESTINATION  REACHED  AT  LAST       ....  166 

XVIII. — DISTURBING  NEWS  FROM  ZANESVILLE        .         .         .        .173 

XIX. — OH!  THE  WEARINESS  OF  WAITING  !         ....  179 

XX. — JIM  SLIVERS  DISAPPEARS 187 

XXL — A  FRUITLESS  CHASE  ........  189 

XXII. — SLAVE-STEALING  AND  HORSE-STEALING     ....  193 

XXIII. — DEFEAT  AND  DOUBT  BUT  NOT  DISCOURAGEMENT       .        .  196 

XXIV. — HOT  HOPES  FADE  OFF  INTO  MIST     ....  201 

XXV. — MUCH  EFFORT — EXPERIENCE  A  NET  RESULT    .        .        .  209 
XXVI. — IN  THE  GRASP  OF  FATE     .        .        ,        .        .        .        .217 

XXVII.— A  PROPOSAI 223 

.BOOK    III 

I. — So  RUNS  THE  WORLD  AWAY — A  LETTER          ,        .        .  229 

II. — THE  UNDERGROUND  RAILWAY 235 

III. — JIM  SLIVERS  RECOUNTS  HISTORY 240 

IV. — A  NIGHT-RIDE  TO  FREEDOM     ......  248 

V. — TROUBLE  IN  THE  CHURCH         ......  256 

VI.— NOTHING  CAN  BE  CONCEALED  LONG 263 

VII. — DISGRACE  FACED  BY  FRANKNESS 267 

VIII.—"  NIGGER  STEALER  !  NIGGER  STEALER  !"         .         .        .  274 

IX. — RESULTS  OF  MIXING  SENTIMENT  AND  BUSINESS         .        .  278 

BOOK   IV 

I. — KANSAS  IN  THE  FIFTIES 285 

II.— POLITICS  AND  STRIFE 294 

III. — CAUGHT  IN  A  TRAP  ! 299 

IV. — JOHN  BROWN  TO  THE  RESCUE 305 


Contents  vii 

CHAPTER  PAGK 

V. — A  LITTLE  MATTER  OF  DIPLOMACY 311 

VI. — A  SHERIFF  INTERVIEWED          .        .        %        .        .        .  316 

VII. — THE  BAPTISM  OF  BLOOD 322 

VIII. — DIPLOMACY  SUPPLEMENTED  BY  FORTY-FOUR    .        .        .  330 

IX. — MASKED  PEACE  AND  SMOTHERED  EMBERS         .         .        .  336 

X. — WOMANHOOD  AND  CHILDHOOD  NOT  EXEMPT     .        .        .  341 

XI. — SURVEYING  THE  TERRITORY 343 

XII. — JIM  SLIVERS  AND  DEATH  WITHOUT  WARNING  .        .        .  349 

XIII. — THE  SOIL  OF  KANSAS  FERTILIZED  BY  BLOOD     .        .        .  353 

XIV. — JOHN  BROWN  AND  UNCLE  SAM  PARLEY     ....  356 

XV. — LOVE  EVER  FIGHTS  FOR  FREEDOM 363 

XVI. — CAPTAIN  CARVER  HOLDS  A  RECEPTION      ....  370 

BOOK  V 

I. — FORCE,  FANATICISM  AND  SENTIMENT         ....  379 

II. — THE  PLANS  ARE  BEING  PERFECTED 383 

III. — THE  PLAN  EXPLAINED       .......  393 

IV. — KINSMEN  ONLY  IN  NAME  .......  398 

V. — TRANSCENDENTALISM  AND  "  BEECHER  BIBLES"         .        .  403 

VI.— THE  TIMF.  is  SHORT  ! 410 

VII. — AN  OLD  FRIEND  WORKS  A  SPELL      .....  414 

VIII. — THE  PLANS  HASTENED 422 

IX. — THE  BLOW  is  STRUCK 426 

X. — "  I  AM  READY  !  " 432 


BOOK  ONE 


CHAPTER  I 

AN    EARLY    MORNING   WEDDING 

IN  the  northeastern  corner  of  the  State  of  Ohio  is  a 
little  space  of  territory,  about  sixty-five  miles  square, 
known  as  the  Western  Reserve. 

In  Congressional  proceedings,  especially  when  the  tariff 
is  up  for  discussion,  one  hears  much  of  this  little  tract. 
On  questions  of  wool  and  dairy  products  it  seems  as 
though  nothing  can  be  done  without  consulting  the  peo 
ple  of  the  Western  Reserve,  and  the  rate  on  steel  rails 
cannot  be  safely  raised  or  lowered  until  this  peculiar 
people  has  been  interviewed. 

And  when  one  considers  the  fact  that  this  little  corner 
has  supplied  one  president,  several  statesmen,  and  the 
man  who,  Victor  Hugo  says,  precipitated  the  Civil  War, 
it  does  seem  as  if  the  Western  Reserve  wielded  an 
influence  quite  out  of  proportion  to  its  insignificant 
dimensions. 

In  the  year  1800  all  that  vast  territory  west  of  Pennsyl 
vania  and  north  of  the  Ohio  River,  stretching  through  to 
the  Mississippi,  was  known  as  the  Northwestern  Territory. 

Certain  States,  that  had  supplied  a  contingent  of 
soldiers  to  clear  this  region  of  the  French  and  hostile  In 
dians,  made  claim  to  the  soil,  and  there  seemed  danger 
that  serious  differences  would  arise.  But  to  adjust  mat 
ters  the  several  States  relinquished  their  claims  in  favor 
of  the  General  Government :  Virginia  reserving  a  small 


4  Time  and  Chance 

strip  on  the  Ohio  River  for  military  purposes,  and  Con 
necticut,  putting  forth  a  like  excuse,  keeping  the  tract 
known  as  the  Western  Reserve. 

Not  needing  the  land  for  her  soldiery,  Connecticut 
with  characteristic  thrift  offered  it  for  sale.  And  so  it 
was  divided  into  farms,  and  many  hardy,  restless  men 
of  the  "  Nutmeg  State,"  on  whom  civilization  was 
pressing  too  heavily,  packed  up  their  earthly  possessions 
and  hastened  as  fast  as  ox-cart  could  go  to  this  new 
Canaan. 

Of  course,  the  men  did  not  go  alone :  only  gamblers, 
speculators,  pirates,  tramps  and  clubmen  think  of  defeat 
ing  Deity  by  leaving  women  behind. 

In  those  days  Nature  had  her  way;  and  when,  in  the 
year  of  our  Lord  eighteen  hundred  and  five,  Nathan 
Crosby,  of  Torrington,  proposed  going  to  the  Western 
Reserve,  his  affianced  wife,  Ruth  Halsted,  spoke  in  the 
words  of  that  other  Ruth  of  long,  long  ago,  and  said: 
'  Entreat  me  not  to  leave  thee,  or  to  return  from  follow 
ing  after  thee;  for  whither  thou  goest,  I  will  go;  and 
where  thou  lodgest,  I  will  lodge;  thy  people  shall  be  my 
people,  and  thy  God  my  God." 

The  bans  had  already  been  posted  at  the  church  door. 
The  marriage  day  had  been  arranged  for  a  month  later, 
but  was  hastened  a  little;  for  Owen  Brown  and  his 
family,  who  lived  in  the  third  house  across  the  creek, 
were  soon  to  start  west;  and  the  Judson  family  were  go 
ing  with  them. 

Nathan  Crosby  was  twenty-two,  tall,  slender,  lithe  and 
brown.  Ruth  was  nineteen,  with  rosy  cheeks,  laughing 
eyes  and  ringlets  that  stole  out  from  under  the  sober  sun- 
bonnet  in  a  very  venturesome  way. 

Nathan's  patrimony  was  a  fine  team  of  young  steers; 
the  cart  was  the  work  of  his  own  hands,  fashioned, 


An  Early  Morning  Wedding  5 

molded,  bent  and  hewn  into  shape  at  odd  hours,  scat 
tered  over  three  years'  time. 

The  bride's  dower  consisted  of  five  quilts,  a  bolt  of 
homespun  linen,  certain  yards  of  linsey  woolsey  and  three 
hickory  chairs. 

The  day  for  the  wedding  was  set.  The  day  came — 
bright,  clear  and  warm,  as  becomes  a  May-day.  And 
although  the  hour  of  nine  in  the  morning  was  an  unusual 
one  for  a  marriage  feast,  yet  even  before  eight  o'clock 
there  were  horses  tied  to  every  tree  along  the  road  in 
front  of  Hiram  Halsted's  house,  and  numerous  ox-carts 
that  looked  as  if  they  might  have  come  from  a  distance 
blocked  the  way ;  for  the  patient  bearers  of  burdens  that 
drew  these  carts  were  lying  down  chewing  the  cud  of 
reverie. 

There  were  men  sitting  on  the  front  fence  whittling 
sticks,  and  men  on  the  stoop,  and  men  lying  on  the 
grass;  and  about  the  back  door,  and  among  the  white- 
covered  tables  spread  under  the  trees,  women  fluttered 
nervously  back  and  forth.  And  there  were  children, 
children  everywhere;  children  of  all  sizes,  ages  and  com 
plexions,  and  some  of  the  women  who  lingered  about  the 
tables,  adding  a  touch  here  and  there,  carried  babies  in 
their  arms. 

All  were  dressed  in  their  "  other  clothes"  and  all  were, 
therefore,  a  bit  uncomfortable;  and  the  conversation  was 
in  a  lowered  tone  as  if  't  were  a  funeral  instead  of  a  wed 
ding.  The  bees  buzzed  solemnly  in  the  locusts  and  the 
summer  winds  sighed  softly  through  the  trees,  but  now 
and  again  a  baby  spoke  up  loud  and  clear  as  babies  will. 

Then  there  came  a  sudden  hush,  and  the  men  on  the 
fence  slid  off  their  perches  and  shut  their  knives  with  a 
quick  snap;  they  pulled  off  their  hats  and  some  removed 
large  chews  of  tobacco.  Those  on  the  grass  stood  up. 


6  Time  and  Chance 

The  women  who  had  fluttered  about  the  back  door  now 
stood  around  the  front ;  the  babies  were  quiet,  the  chil 
dren  frightened.  In  the  midst  of  this  expectant  stillness, 
when  every  heart  beat  fast,  Nathan  Crosby  and  Ruth  Hal- 
sted  walked  out  upon  the  little  porch  arm  in  arm.  They 
stood  so  that  all  the  company  in  the  yard  could  see  them, 
and  the  white-haired  old  minister  read  the  marriage  ser 
vice  and  then  all  the  people  heard  his  concluding  words: 
"  And  I  do  now  pronounce  you  man  and  wife." 

Then  there  was  a  prayer,  a  hymn  was  sung,  and  the 
people  laughed  and  shook  hands  with  each  other  and 
crowded  around  to  salute  the  bride.  The  babies  raised 
their  voices,  the  bees  hummed  louder  than  ever,  birds 
sang  in  the  tall  poplars,  and  the  women  moved  back  and 
forth  from  kitchen  to  tables  in  laughing  haste. 

Soon  the  bride  and  groom  were  ushered  to  places  at 
the  head  of  one  of  the  long  tables,  and  the  rest  of  the 
seats  were  quickly  filled.  The  old  preacher  said  grace, 
and  the  white  petals  from  the  apple  blossoms  fell  like 
snow  as  the  summer  wind  blew  softly  from  the  south. 


CHAPTER    II 

THE   JOURNEY   BEGINS 

NATHAN   and   Ruth  did   not  eat   much ;  they  only 
made    pretense,  and  merely  tasted   the  food  that 
the  women  piled  upon  their  plates. 

They  were  watching  the  young  men  who  were  so  busily 
loading  the  canvas-covered  ox-cart  that  stood  out  by  the 
front  gate.  Into  the  cart  went  the  three  hickory  chairs 
and  the  five  bed-quilts ;  then  more  hickory  chairs  and  more 
bed-quilts,  that  had  been  brought  by  aunts  and  uncles 


The  Journey  Begins  7 

from  up  the  creek.  And  aunts  and  uncles  from  down 
the  creek  had  brought  bags  of  beans  and  potatoes  and 
corn.  And  neighbors  had  contributed  hams  and  dried 
beef,  and  the  miller  had  sent  a  hundred  pounds  of  meal. 
Then  there  were  rolling  pins,  and  potato  mashers,  and 
butter  ladles,  and  wooden  spoons,  and  more  articles  whit 
tled  out  from  trees  than  anyone  ever  saw  outside  of  the 
State  of  Connecticut. 

And  Nathan  and  Ruth  saw  all  these  things  being 
packed  away  in  their  own  cart — the  cart  that  Nathan  had 
made  and  fashioned  with  his  own  hands — the  cart  that 
Ruth  had  come  to  see,  and  admired  as  the  young  man 
worked  at  it.  It  was  "  our  "  cart  and  those  were  "  our  " 
things,  and  they  clasped  hands  beneath  the  table,  and 
tears  filled  their  eyes,  and  the  women  rallied  them  on  loss 
of  appetite  and  the  men  laughed  loudly  as  the  jest  went 
round. 

But  now  something  else  caught  the  attention  of  the  as 
semblage:  an  enormous  wagon  drawn  by  four  oxen,  with 
three  carts  behind,  all  followed  by  half  a  dozen  cows  and 
twice  as  many  sheep,  driven  by  several  boys,  some  of 
whom  rode  horses  and  colts. 

It  's  the  Browns  and  the  Judsons  starting  west,"  said 
one  whittler  to  another. 

And  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Brown  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Judson 
arose  hastily  from  the  table  and  began  calling  to  several 
small,  rosy-faced,  barefoot  Browns  and  Judsons. 

The  caravan  stopped  in  the  road  in  front  of  the  Hal- 
sted  cottage  and  then  there  was  much  kissing  and  hand 
shaking.  The  women  wept  and  wiped  their  eyes  on  their 
big  check  aprons,  and  all  the  babies  cried,  and  the  dogs 
barked,  and  the  bees  buzzed  discordantly  as  the  wind 
made  mournful  music  through  the  trees,  and  a  robin  called 
anxiously  for  his  mate  from  the  top  of  the  tallest  poplar. 


8  Time  and  Chance 

Sundry  little  Judsons  were  packed  away  on  top  o'  the 
household  goods  in  the  carts  and  wagon ;  various  Browns 
were  distributed  likewise,  while  other  Browns  in  jeans, 
and  Judsons  in  linsey  woolsey  got  permission  to  follow 
behind  and  drive  the  sheep.  Mrs.  Brown  sat  on  the  seat 
of  the  big  wagon  holding  a  baby,  and  by  her  side  was 
another,  with  nose  out  of  joint,  scarcely  two  years  old. 
And  so  amid  a  shout  of  good-byes  and  God-bless-yous, 
there  was  a  flourish  of  ox  goads,  and  the  creaking  caval 
cade  started  slowly  away. 

"  Oh,  stop,  please — one  moment!  where  is  John  ?  has 
anyone  seen  my  little  John  ?  "  cried  Mrs.  Brown  from  out 
the  depths  of  her  black  sun-bonnet. 

"  Oh,  he  's  all  safe!  Ruth  Halsted — I  mean  my  wife — 
has  him ! "  called  tall  Nathan  Crosby  from  where  he 
walked  by  the  side  of  the  young  steers. 

Who  did  you  say  ?  "  laughed  a  stout  man. 

"  Land  sakes! — he  's  learnin'  quick!  "  said  an  elderly 
woman. 

But  Nathan  only  looked  back  at  the  high  seat  where 
Ruth  sat  smiling,  crying,  and  blushing  with  her  arm 
around  a  slender,  yellow-haired  little  five-year-old  boy. 
A  sickly,  sedate,  blue-eyed  boy  who  thought  and 
thought  when  he  should  have  played ;  who  had  been 
born  into  one  of  those  great  big  old-time  families,  when 
babies  were  fashionable,  and  where  there  was  not  always 
quite  love  enough  to  go  'round,  and  no  time  to  manifest 
it  even  if  there  had  been. 

And  so  this  young  woman,  whose  heart  was  so  overflow 
ing  with  affection,  smoothed  the  shock  of  tawny  hair  and 
held  the  lad  close  to  her  side. 

The  caravan  moved  slowly  up  the  village  street,  across 
the  old  wooden  bridge,  where  there  was  notice  of  a  fine 
for  him  who  drove  faster  than  a  walk,  on  up  the  valley. 


A  Day  of  Incidents  9 

And  the  oxen  pushed  and  clashed  horn  against  horn, 
and  the  children  from  the  village,  who  had  trooped  be 
hind,  began  to  drop  back,  and  finally  only  the  Browns 
and  the  Judsons  and  the  Crosbys  were  left;  they  and 
their  cattle  and  their  babies  and  their  flocks. 

The  sun  was  beating  down  hot  and  the  stony  road  was 
dry  and  dusty. 

'  Ruth,  Ruth  Halsted,  where  are  we  going  ?  "  asked 
the  little  yellow  boy  in  childish  treble. 

'  We  are  going  to  the  Western  Reserve,  John." 
'  And  will  we  get  there  to-night  ?  " 

"  No,  dear  little  boy,  not  to-night,  nor  to-morrow 
night,  nor  the  next,  nor  in  a  week — it  may  take  us  three 
months — you  are  not  sorry,  though,  are  you  ?  " 

'  No — no,  I  don't  care  how  long  it  takes  if  I  can 
be  with  you!"  said  the  boy.  The  bride  of  an  hour 
kissed  the  little  yellow  boy  and  laid  his  tired  head  in  her 
lap. 

And  the  boy  slept ;  and  Nathan  Crosby,  tall,  lithe, 
and  bronzed  looked  up  and  smiled  and  smiled. 


CHAPTER    III 

A   DAY   OF   INCIDENTS 

'  T  A  fE  'LL  make  a  big  march  this  first  day  —  the 
V  V       cattle  will  drive  better  after  we  get  'em  good 
and  tired." 

'  That  's    so,   Captain    Judson,    I    guess    they    will," 
answered  Deacon  Brown. 

The  big  wagon  and  the  four  carts  had  been  driven  into 
a  stream — wide,  shallow,  and  rock-bottomed.  The  oxen 
drank  with  great  deliberation,  and  as  the  vehicles  stood 


io  Time  and  Chance 

there  side  by  side,  the  cool  water  gurgling  through  the 
spokes,  little  John  Brown  awoke  with  a  start. 

"  Oh,  Ruth,  it  is  n't  a  Noah's  flood,  is  it  ?  " 

"  No,  dear,  it  's  only  Timber  Creek — we  have  come  six 
miles!  " 

"  Your  baby  is  pretty  cute,  Mister  Crosby,"  called  the 
oldest  Judson  boy,  Jedediah  by  name,  a  freckled  youth 
of  twenty,  who  was  too  big  for  a  boy  and  not  yet  a  man. 
He  rode  his  horse  into  the  stream  and  stopped  opposite 
the  young  steers — "  O  Judas!  "  he  suddenly  shouted— 
his  horse  was  lying  down  with  him  in  the  stream.  He 
sprang  off  into  the  water,  which  was  over  his  boot  tops, 
and  gave  a  kick  at  the  colt  that  had  gone  down  in  a  way 
that  gave  the  blanket,  that  served  for  a  saddle,  a  com 
plete  wetting. 

The  women  and  children  sent  up  a  shout  of  laughter 
and  even  old  Captain  Judson  chuckled. 

'  Yes,  the  boy  is  rather  cute,  thank  'ee,"   answered 
Nathan. 

The  colt  sprang  up,  shook  the  water  from  his  hide,  and 
made  a  bound  for  the  opposite  shore.  The  rope  ran 
through  the  young  man's  hands — he  clutched  at  the  knot 
at  the  end,  and  it  drew  him  forward  one  big  stride.  His 
feet  slipped  on  the  flat  stones  and  then  shot  up  above  the 
water  and  down  went  the  youth  with  a  ker-splash. 

Then  there  was  applause  and  more  laughter. 
'  Yes,  our  baby  is  all  right ;  how  's  your  eldest,  sister 
Judson  ?  " 

'  He  always  did  believe  in  immersion !  "  answered  the 
father. 

4  Now,    Pa,  we   should   not  speak    lightly  of  sacred 
things,"  spoke  the  woman  in  mild  rebuke. 

'  Nothin'  very  sacred  about  Jed's  losing  a  little  of  his 
dignity — is  there,  Deacon  Brown  ?  " 


A  Day  of  Incidents  II 

'  It  won't  hurt  the  boy — Satan  gets  us  all  by  the  heels 
at  times,  and  pride  must  have  a  fall." 

The  sheep  had  come  up  by  this  time  and  stood  irreso 
lute,  bleating  on  the  shore.  A  boy  seized  a  black-faced 
lamb  in  his  arms  and  began  wading  across,  the  mother 
anxiously  followed  after  her  woolly  offspring,  and  the 
rest  of  the  sheep  straggled  along  behind. 

Here,  Joe,  take  this  gourd  and  milk  a  pint  from  the 
red  cow — the  baby  's  hungry!"  Why  the  red  cow 
should  be  milked  for  the  benefit  of  the  baby,  that  was  at 
that  very  instant  intent  on  satisfying  hunger,  would  not 
have  been  apparent  to  an  outsider.  But  there  was  "  the 
baby  "  and  "  the  little  baby." 

The  baby  depended  on  the  red  cow,  but  the  little  baby 
knew  a  scheme  worth  two  o'  that,  as  it  nosed  under  the 
homespun  shawl. 

So  the  gourd  was  duly  brought  by  a  ruddy  lad  with 
trousers  rolled  to  his  thighs,  who  evidently  believed  in 
immersion,  too,  for  he  would  not  have  cared  had  he  been 
wet  all  over. 

Go  'way,  you  rascal,  don't  you  splash  us,"  shouted 
Nathan,  who  was  now  sitting  up  on  the  seat  by  the  side 
of  his  wife  and  little  John. 

'  Well,  here  we  go — Gee,  Buck!  you  Bright!  "  and 
away  they  went  up  the  bank  with  a  crack  of  whip  and 
sing-song  creak  of  the  great  awkward  carts  as  they  fol 
lowed  one  after  another. 

Jedediah  had  caught  his  horse  and  stood  very  be 
draggled  on  a  rock  wringing  his  coat. 

I  say,  Captain  Judson,  how  's  your  baby  ?  "  called 
Nathan  as  he  swung  past  and  pointed  at  the  picture. 

And  so  they  moved  on  to  the  west  and  the  day  wore 
away ;  the  sun  was  sending  out  long  shadows  towards 
Torrington,  but  Torrington  was  fifteen  miles  behind  and 


12  Time  and  Chance 

only  two  out  of  all  that  cavalcade  of  twenty  souls  were 
ever  to  see  the  smiling  village  again. 

Another  mile  and  the  road  skirted  a  brook  that  ran 
dancing  and  singing  over  the  pebbles.  Just  across  was  a 
stretch  of  bottom-land  where  the  grass  grew  lusty,  dewy 
and  fragrant. 

Captain  Judson  called  "  Here  we  raise  our  Ebenezer!  " 
Someone  started  a  hymn  and  the  vehicles  hauled  out 
under  a  little  grove  of  lofty  pines  that  grew  by  the  brook- 
side.  The  boys  with  the  cattle  had  lagged  behind,  but 
now  they  raised  a  shout  and  came  forward  on  a  run,  and 
their  clamor  made  more  than  one  verse  of  the  hymn  out 
of  the  question. 

Quickly  the  oxen  were  unyoked,  the  horses  unsaddled  ; 
the  cattle  drank  lazily  from  the  stream,  and  the  horses 
rolled  on  the  grass  as  if  in  glee  that  the  day's  work  was 
done. 

The  boys  had  been  promised  that  they  could  fish,  and 
they  were  not  slow  in  turning  over  flat  stones  and  rotting 
logs  looking  for  bait. 

The  little  children  were  helped  out  of  the  wagons  and 
the  women  climbed  down  by  themselves,  all  save  Ruth, 
who  was  tenderly  assisted. 

And  while  the  men  got  wood  and  brush  for  a  fire, 
the  women  laid  blankets  on  the  grass  for  the  babies  to 
lie  on,  and  were  getting  out  pans  and  kettles  for  cooking. 

The  sun  had  set  in  a  burst  of  golden  glory  behind  the 
great,  green  hills ;  and  the  air  was  now  cool,  so  the  crack 
ling  fire  added  a  cheer  and  a  hope  to  our  homeless  friends 
— a  cheer  that  comes  with  genial  warmth  and  a  hope  of 
supper. 

The  kettle  was  soon  singing  over  the  coals  from  where 
it  hung  over  the  improvised  crane,  the  bacon  was  sput 
tering  in  the  spider,  potatoes  were  roasting  in  the  ashes, 


A  Day  of  Incidents  13 

and  the  coffee  made  from  parched  corn  was  sending  out 
its  fragrant  aroma.  The  red  cow  had  supplied  her  contri 
bution,  and  the  boys  and  girls  who  had  wandered  off  up 
and  down  the  creek,  fishing,  were  called,  and  after  Deacon 
Brown  had  said  a  short  grace,  business  began.  The 
women  waited  on  the  children  first,  and  everything  was 
in  common.  There  was  neither  mine,  nor  thine,  but  all 
was  ours. 

And  how  they  did  eat ! 

The  children  talked  and  jabbered  (for  even  Puritan 
children  jabber,  else  they  wither  and  die)  and  told  of  the 
things  they  saw,  and  of  the  things  that  they  intended  to 
do,  and  all  the  time  they  ate.  And  the  fond  parents 
smiled,  and  Nathan  and  Ruth  sat  on  a  bowlder,  eating 
from  one  plate,  and  little  John  sat  at  their  feet.  Once 
he  looked  up  and  said:  "  Ruth." 
4  Yes,  John." 

"  Is  n't  it  fun  ?  " 

"  Indeed  it  is!  " 

44  Are  n't  you  glad  we  're  here  ?  " 
'  Yes,  John,  I  'm  very  glad." 

Off  to  the  east  a  big  yellow  star  arose,  and  then  more 
stars  peeped  forth  one  by  one,  and  the  dusk  gathered, 
and  the  great  green  hill  turned  to  a  purple  mound  that 
lifted  itself  a  giant  shadow  against  the  sky.  Brush  was 
heaped  on  the  smouldering  fire,  and  then  the  women 
tucked  up  their  dresses  and  washed  the  dishes  in  the 
brook.  The  babies  lying  on  the  spread-out  blankets  were 
asleep.  Boxes  and  packages  were  taken  out  of  the  carts 
and  wagons  so  as  to  make  up  beds,  and  sleepy  children 
were  lifted  off  the  ground  and  bundled  away  here  and 
there  under  the  big  canvas-covered  tops.  Several  of  the 
horses  and  oxen  were  hobbled,  the  dogs  were  turned 
loose,  more  wood  was  piled  on  the  fire,  and  all  lay  down 


14  Time  and  Chance 

to  rest.  From  a  pond  a  mile  away  came  the  solemn 
croak  of  frogs,  whip-poor-wills  called,  the  distant  screech 
of  an  owl  was  heard,  and  all  the  time  the  brook  sang  its 
ceaseless  lullaby  of  rhythmic  song.  June  bugs  buzzed 
and  bumped  along  the  dark,  the  night  wind  sighed 
softly  thro'  the  pines,  and  as  the  stars  kept  guard  tired 
nature  slept. 

CHAPTER    IV 

LITTLE   JOHN    MAKES   A   CAPTURE 

BIRDS  and  babies  go  to  sleep  at  sundown,  and,  like 
Solomon's  ideal  woman,  arise  while  yet  it  is  night. 

The  ecstasy  of  forest  birds  at  the  first  flush  of  summer 
day-dawn  is  a  thing  to  remember  long.  But  to  hide 
their  song  away  in  your  heart  so  that  you  shall  keep  it 
forever  and  a  day,  you  must  have  heard  it  in  childhood. 
For  then  hope  beat  high,  and  a  belief  in  the  celestial,  the 
mystical,  and  the  miraculous  was  a  living  thing  like  the 
song-birds  themselves;  then  you  never  doubted  that 
the  magic  potency  of  the  thyrsus  would  yet  be  yours, 
and  at  the  waving  of  your  wand  spirits  would  start,  and 
men  would  do  your  bidding. 

Or — well,  yes — if  you  hear  those  wild  notes  of  unseen 
songsters  just  when  the  first  flush  of  pink  comes  into  the 
east,  and  as  the  shadows  flee  away,  and  you  are  on  your 
wedding  journey,  perhaps  then  you  will  hold  them 
deathless  long  after  great  things  are  forgot;  just  as  men 
win  fortunes  and  kingdoms,  and  gamble  them  away,  and 
yet  keep  hidden  in  sacred  nooks  faded  bits  of  ribbon  and 
tatters  of  lace. 

Before  sunrise,  even  as  jocund  day  stood  tiptoe  on  the 
mountain  top,  the  camp  was  astir.  The  fire  was  crack 
ling  merrily,  the  children  were  washing  their  hands  and 


Little  John  Makes  a  Capture  15 

faces  in  the  stream,  and  those  too  small,  or  without  the 
necessary  ambition  to  perform  their  own  ablutions,  were 
having  the  task  done  for  them,  not  o'er  gently,  but 
kindly.  Two  older  boys  were  cleaning  fish  and  a  big 
girl,  called  Sis,  was  rolling  the  brook  trout  in  cornmeal. 

Great  heaps  of  white  mist  went  reeling  up  the  distant 
hillside  like  bacchantes  of  the  night  hieing  them  home 
from  the  dance.  The  dew  hung  in  beads  on  the  grass 
blades  and  leaves.  Soon  the  sun's  rays  fell  over  all  and 
turned  the  pearly  beads  to  diamonds  and  showed  great 
stretches  of  gauzy  lace-stuff  where  busy  spiders  had  spun 
their  webs:  sending  out  into  the  darkness  filament  after 
filament  —  swaying  out  into  the  unknown  until  some 
where  they  held  fast,  and  the  morning  sun  made  all  plain. 

When  breakfast  was  ready,  a  blast  was  blown  on  a 
horn.  There  was  a  quick  gathering  of  the  clans;  and 
about  the  fire  savory  things  steamed  and  even  the  elder 
children,  intent  on  fishing,  came  trooping  in  from  the 
underbrush. 

Don't  let  Jed  pray,  he  's  too  long-winded — every 
thing  '11  get  cold,"  whispered  Mrs.  Brown  as  she  plucked 
the  Deacon  by  the  sleeve. 

The  Deacon  might  have  chided  this  mixing  of  material 
and  spiritual  things  in  one  breath,  but  he  prided  himself 
on  his  prayers,  so  he  only  half  smiled  and  lifting  his 
voice  to  its  best  meetin'-house  tone  announced:  "  Num 
ber  one  sixty-nine — long  metre — 

"  '  Now  doth  the  sun  ascend  the  sky, 
And  wake  creation  with  its  ray  : 
Keep  us  from  sin,  O  Lord  most  high, 
Through  all  the  actions  of  the  day ' 

—Sing  !" 

And  so  they  sang,  loud,  clear  and  sincere;  the  tree- 
tops  answered  it  back,  and  a  blue-jay  on  an  overhanging 


1 6  Time  and  Chance 

limb  sneered  in  disrespectful  chatter.  Mrs.  Judson's 
high-pitched  falsetto  shot  up  above  the  sound  waves  like 
a  sharp  church  steeple  out  of  a  grove. 

The  Deacon  lined  off  the  hymn  just  as  if  even  the 
babies  could  not  coo  the  well  known  words;  and  so  they 
sang  there  under  the  pines  as  the  brook  went  singing  a 
little  purring  love  song  of  its  own.  Then  a  prayer,  deep, 
earnest  and  heartfelt,  was  said,  and  before  the  echo  of 
the  amen  was  heard  the  women  were  filling  the  wooden 
plates  of  the  impatient  children. 

"  Mercy  me!"  said  Mrs.  Judson,  "  mercy  me!  Ruth 
Halsted,  I  thought  brides  allus  looked  after  their  hus 
bands  close — I  did  mine.  So  you  don't  know  where  he 
is  gone  to  ?  " 

'  Why,  Nathan  is  not  far,  he  and  little  John  strolled 
down  the  creek  after  cowslips." 

"  It  's  too  late  for  greens,"  jerked  Mrs.  Judson. 
'  They  did  not  want  cowslips  for  greens — they  were 
going  to  get  blossoms  for  me." 

O  ho!  and  in  a  month  you  '11  have  to  split  your  own 
wood — that  's  just  the  way  of  the  men." 

Ruth  did  not  answer,  and  so  Jedediah  chinked  in  the 
space  by  drawling:  "  Methinks  it  would  have  showed  a 
better  spirit  if  Nathan  had  been  here  to  prayers — pass 
the  Johnnie-cake,  Sis." 

Ruth  took  up  the  horn  that  lay  on  a  flat  stone. 

Jedediah  took  a  big  mouthful  of  Johnnie-cake  and 
said: 

'  To  absent  — 

Ruth  pursed  her  pretty  lips  and  blew  a  too-whoooo-too- 
whoooo!     Her  cheeks  grew  red,  and  as  she  paused  for 
breath  Jedediah  continued:  "  ourselves  from— 
Whoooo-too-too-whoooo !  " 
public  prayers — 


Little  John  Makes  a  Capture  17 

'  Too-too-whooo-whooo!" 
"  is  evil — " 
"  Whoooo!  " 

"  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord !  " 

The  words  came  out  with  a  roar  clear  above  the  sound 
of  the  horn. 

An  answering  shout  was  heard  from  the  dingle. 
'  I  '11  go  and  find  them,"  said  Ruth,  and  she  tripped 
away. 

'You   'd  better  stay    and  eat  your   breakfuss  ;"    but 
Ruth  had  disappeared  among  the  alders. 

"  She  's  a  fine  young  woman!  "  said  Deacon  Brown. 
'  But  worldly  minded,"  said  Mrs.  Judson. 
'  Well,  a  leetle  that  way,  perhaps." 
In  five   minutes  the   alders   shook,  then  parted,  and 
Nathan  and  Ruth  stepped  forth,  arm  in  arm,  followed 
by  little  John,  who  was  hugging  something  very  closely 
in  his  arms. 

I  've  got  it — I  have!  "  cried  the  child,  and  his  dark 
blue  eyes  shone  with  delight. 

"  Got  something!     Land  sakes !  "    cried  his   mother, 

yes,  you  've  got  your  hand  all  scratched  some  way — 

dear  me  !  let  that  thing  go  at  once — what  is  it,  anyway  ? ' ' 

"  Only  a  squirrel,"  laughed  Nathan,  as  the  boy  took 

his  prize  around  for  each  to  admire. 

Throw  it  away — he  's  bit  you  already — do  you  hear 
me  ?  "  and  the  mother  with  a  babe  at  her  breast  made  a 
threatening  motion  toward  little  John,  who  backed  away 
holding  the  half-grown  squirrel  tighter  than  ever. 

Oh,  now,  Mother!  "  said  the  Deacon. 
'  I  know,"  cried  Ruth,  "  I  know  what  we  '11  do.     I 
have  a  basket  that  will  just  make  a  nest  for  it.      We  will 
weave  bark  over  the  top  for  a  cover  — 

"  That  's  what  we  '11  do,"  said  Nathan,  and  he  reached 


1 8  Time  and  Chance 

a  long  arm  into  the  ox-cart  and  brought  forth  a  splint 
basket  that  was  among  the  wedding  presents. 

'  Why  did  you  let  him  get  scratched  so,  Nathan  ?  you 
can't  be  trusted  with  children,"  said  the  mother,  not 
quite  mollified. 

"  He  chased  the  squirrel  and  I  chased  him.  He  is  so 
little  that  I  lost  him  in  the  brush  till  all  at  once  I  heard 
him  shout,  '  I  've  got  it,  I  've  got  it!  '  And  when  I 
had  pushed  through  the  bushes  I  found  he  had  not  only 
got  the  squirrel,  but  the  squirrel  had  got  him — by  the 
hand  with  its  teeth ;  and  the  more  the  squirrel  fought 
and  scratched,  the  more  he  held  on,  until  I  showed  him 
how  to  hold  it  by  the  scruff  of  the  neck." 

"Land  sakes!   How  his  hand  do  bleed — did  n't  he  cry  ?" 
'  That  boy  ?  not  he — he  is  n't  that  kind.     When  he 
gets  hold  of  a  thing  he  sticks." 

'  May  he  ever  cling  to  that  which  is  righteous,"  said 
Deacon  Brown. 

"  Amen  and  amen!  "  solemnly  said  Jedediah. 

And  so  they  ate  breakfast  there  in  the  bright,  warm 
sunshine,  and  Ruth  wove  willow  twigs,  lacing  them  back 
and  forth  into  a  cover  for  the  basket,  and  tall  Nathan 
laughed  and  laughed  and  put  delicious  morsels  of  brook 
trout  first  into  Ruth's  mouth  and  then  into  little  John's; 
for  John  had  to  hold  his  squirrel  and  Ruth  had  to 
weave,  so  Nathan  fed  them  both,  and  fed  himself  besides, 
and  made  sundry  frivolous  remarks. 

Across  the  creek  in  the  clearing  where  the  grass  grew 
lush,  and  the  warm  sun  fell,  the  sheep  and  the  oxen  hav 
ing  eaten  their  fill,  were  all  lying  down. 

"  It  's  a  shame  to  trouble  'em,  but  we  've  got  to,  I 
s'pose,"  said  Captain  Judson. 

'  Yes,  a  voice  says,  '  Arise  and  get  thee  hence,'  "  re 
marked  Jedediah. 


Little  John  Makes  a  Capture  19 

And  as  the  men  yoked  the  oxen,  and  the  boys  saddled 
their  horses,  the  women  packed  the  bedding  away  and 
piled  in  the  furniture.  The  fire  was  put  out  and  Captain 
Judson  made  a  last  survey  for  articles  that  might  be  left. 
Nathan  put  his  arm  around  his  wife's  waist  and  helped 
her  up  on  the  seat.  Then  with  an,  "  upsy  daisy,"  he 
swung  little  John  up  after,  his  squirrel  basket  tightly  in 
his  hand. 

"  Ruth!" 
'  Yes,  John." 

"  Don't  you  wish  we  could  stay  here  ? " 

"  All  the  time  ?  " 
'  Yes,  just  3'ou  and  me  and  Nathan  and  Bob." 

"  And  who  is  Bob  ?  " 
'  Why,  don't  you  know,  he  's  my  squirrel  ?  " 

"  Nathan,  did  you  hear  what  the  boy  said  ?  "  smilingly 
asked  the  blooming  young  woman. 

'  Yes,  dear  one,  I  heard  what  he  said, — '  just  you  and 
me  and  Bob  and  John,' — I  wish  we  could  stay."  But 
the  strong  young  man  did  not  smile ;  he  was  thinking. 

:<  Forward  march  !  "  shouted  Captain  Judson. 

The  four  oxen  started  with  a  jerk:  the  links  of  the  big 
chain  rattled,  tightened,  and  the  wagon  moved.  The 
carts  fell  in  behind;  the  cows  moohed  and  lumbered 
after.  Two  small  Browns  and  a  Judson  rode  the  red 
cow;  the  sheep  huddled  into  the  road  and  the  boys  on 
horseback  brought  up  the  rear. 

Start  some  familiar  hymn,"  called  the  Captain. 

"  Praise  God  from  whom  all  blessings  flow," 

announced  the  Deacon,  and  all  sang  with  a  will. 

And  back  under  the  pines  the  brook  still  sang  the 
soothing  little  love  ditty  of  its  own.  At  least  that  was 
what  Nathan  and  Ruth  thought. 


2O  Time  and  Chance 

CHAPTER   V 

AS   TO   JEDEDIAH — A   DIGRESSION 

CAPTAIN  JUDSON  was  in  command  of  the  little 
caravan,  as  a  matter  of  course;  for  he  had  led  a 
company  of  volunteer  soldiers  through  to  the  Northwest 
ern  Territory  eight  years  before.  They  went  to  fight 
the  French  and  Indians.  But  they  could  n't  find  the 
French;  and  the  Indians  did  not  find  them,  so  there  was 
no  blood  shed.  Yet  Captain  Judson  came  back  to  Tor- 
rington  covered  with  renown;  and  like  the  messengers  of 
old  who  were  sent  forth  to  spy  out  the  land,  he  returned 
and  reported  favorably.  He  brought  back  no  bunches  of 
grapes  swung  on  poles  and  carried  on  the  brawny  shoulders 
of  strong  men,  but  his  report  was  as  glowing  as  a  sunset  at 
sea  and  as  beautiful  as  a  rainbow  touched  by  a  dream. 

Captain  Judson  wore  a  rusty  gilt  cord  around  his  hat 
as  a  hint  of  authority  and  a  reminder  of  the  stirring 
scenes  that  he  had  known  in  the  imminent  deadly  breach. 
Good  Deacon  Brown  did  not  much  admire  that  cord — it 
savored  of  pomp  and  worldly  lust.  Of  course,  he  said 
nothing,  but  his  wife  knew  what  was  in  his  heart,  as  the 
wife  of  a  man's  bosom  always  does;  and  she  eased  the 
Deacon's  soul,  as  she  might  have  scratched  his  back  in  a 
place  that  he  could  not  reach,  by  saying  confidentially: 

Captain  Judson  is  a  worthy  man  and  means  well,  but 
his  ancestors  did  not  come  over  in  the  Mayflower:  they 
were  only  sailors." 

And  the  Deacon  softly  chided  her  woman's  tongue,  as 
was  meet. 

Jedediah  Judson  was  the  first  child  of  his  parents. 
They  were  religious  people — were  the  Judsons — which  is 
rather  a  needless  remark  when  we  consider  that  in  those 


As  to  Jedediah — a  Digression  21 

days  Connecticut  had  a  state  religion  and  those  who  did 
not  profess  it  were  veritable  Pariahs. 

Religious  persecution  had  driven  the  forefathers  of 
these  people  from  the  Old 'World.  They  had  endured 
all — had  given  all  for  what  they  believed  to  be  truth ; 
and,  if  need  be,  their  children  were  quite  willing  to  re 
peat  the  process.  And  when  they  sang,  "  Religion  is 
the  chief  concern  of  mortals  here  below,"  they  expressed 
an  idea  that  was  mortised  and  riveted  into  the  very 
granite  of  their  natures. 

Jedediah  was  squat  and  freckled;  he  had  bright  red 
hair  that  was  somewhat  curly,  and  china  blue  eyes.  He 
was  precocious  in  babyhood,  and  "  sassy  "  in  youth,  and 
as  he  was  "  likely  "  his  mother  had  set  him  apart  for  the 
ministry.  He  was  not  the  son  of  a  Levite,  to  be  sure, 
but  then  her  grandfather  had  been  a  preacher,  and  that 
her  first-born  should  be  a  preacher  too — what  nobler  am 
bition  ?  When  the  youngster  could  scarcely  lisp,  his 
fond  mother  would  stand  him  in  a  chair  and  ask: 

What  's  muzzer's  boy  going  to  be  when  he  gets  a 
great  big  man  ?  " 

And  the  baby  would  say : 
Preacher!  " 

Then  he  was  taught  to  recite  pieces  and  say  verses  and 
sing  tunes,  when  there  was  company,  and  all  would  laugh 
and  approve  by  knowing  nods.  This  performance  was 
gone  through  whenever  neighbors  called  and  was  never 
omitted  when  the  minister  came. 

And  the  boy  grew  and  waxed  strong. 

This  was  rather  a  source  of  sorrow  to  his  mother  than 
otherwise,  for  that  the  ideal  minister  should  be  sickly 
none  doubted :  to  be  weak  proved  that  he  was  not  of  the 
earth,  and  the  probability  that  he  might  fly  hence  at  any 
time  gave  a  serious  import  to  his  words  that  caused  cold 


22  Time  and  Chance 

streaks  to  shoot  up  the  spines  of  the  scoffers  who  sat  on 
the  back  seats.  The  pale  man  with  a  hollow  cough  was 
near  to  God ;  and  how  could  we  reach  God  excepting 
through  death  ? 

Then  physical  weakness  was  fit  excuse  for  not  enga 
ging  in  manual  labor.  But  even  handicapped  with  health, 
Jedediah  clung  to  the  idea  that  he  "  had  a  call,"  and  his 
mother  constantly  braced  the  thought  for  him.  And  as  for 
Captain  Judson,  he  was  half  proud  and  half  ashamed  of  it. 
For  Captain  Judson  was  of  a  dual  nature  :  one  in  whom  the 
glamour  of  militia  and  the  love  of  religion  ruled  in  turn, 
and  at  times  these  spirits  struggled  for  the  mastery.  And 
so  he  compromised  by  calling  himself  a  Fighting  Christ 
ian,  but  the  real  fact  was  that  he  was  not  much  of  a  fighter 
nor  a  very  good  Christian.  But  then  no  man  has  ever  yet 
been  able  to  label  and  pigeon-hole  himself  aright. 

Captain  Judson  hoped  for  a  military  boy,  and  therefore 
took  small  satisfaction  in  his  preacher  son.  And  so 
whenever  the  youth  led  in  prayer,  or  lifted  a  hymn,  or 
opened  the  Bible  at  random  and  read  the  message,  the 
Captain  squirmed  and  grew  first  hot,  then  cold.  But  all 
this  time  Mrs.  Judson  looked  on  with  deep,  motherly 
pride  and  a  hearty  sense  of  satisfaction  in  the  fact  that 
she  had  been  chosen  to  bear  a  son  whose  office  it  was  to 
snatch  souls  from  the  burning. 

All  by  himself,  unknown  to  a  single  soul,  Captain 
Judson  had  decided  that  if  worst  came  to  worst,  and  a 
fight  were  on,  he  would  put  Nathan  Crosby  second  in 
command  with  orders  to  take  full  charge  if  he  (Captain 
Judson)  should  fall.  "  But  then  the  dangers  are  few, 
and  so  prayers  may  answer,"  mused  the  Captain. 

Nathan  Crosby  was  only  a  year  older  than  Jedediah 
and  was  not  half  so  smart,  folks  said.  Jedediah  had  been 
away  to  school,  had  been  in  Boston  and  once  in  New 


As  to  Jedediah — a  Digression  23 

Haven,  and  he  had  lived  a  whole  year  in  a  preacher's 
family  studying  theology.  Just  as  we  now  demand  that 
the  fledgling  lawyers  shall  begin  their  career  by  studying 
in  a  lawyer's  office,  and  as  we  refuse  a  diploma  to  a  doc 
tor  who  has  not  studied  with  a  practitioner,  so  the  former 
method  was  to  have  the  coming  shepherd  of  a  flock  ap 
prenticed  to  a  preacher. 

Nathan  had  the  dignity  that  comes  from  absence  of 
effort  and  freedom  from  pretense.  He  was  usually  sedate 
and  talked  but  little;  while  Jedediah  talked  much. 
Nathan  could  take  the  long  rifle  and  shoot  a  squirrel 
from  the  top  of  the  tallest  tree,  without  a  rest,  while 
Jedediah  was  "  gun  shy." 

Nathan  could  ride  wild  horses,  break  steers,  and  climb 
higher  at  a  raising  than  anyone  else,  yet  he  had  never 
made  a  profession  of  religion.  In  fact,  he  never  said 
anything  about  it  one  way  or  the  other.  He  was  as 
ignorant  of  his  "  inward  state  "  as  he  was  of  his  digestion. 

But  the  fact  that  he  had  not  "  professed  "  caused  the 
good  villagers  to  look  at  him  askance  and  shake  their 
heads  dubiously  at  the  thought  of  so  fine  a  girl  as  Ruth 
Halsted  marrying  an  ungodly  man. 

The  risk  of  this  proceeding  had  impressed  itself  even  on 
Jedediah  Judson,  and  as  he  had  the  happiness  of  human 
ity  at  heart,  he  spoke  to  Ruth  about  it  only  a  fortnight  be 
fore  the  wedding.  But  what  her  answer  was  no  one  knew 
but  Jedediah,  and  he  never  told.  He,  however,  had  re 
marked  to  a  neighbor  that  no  one  in  allTorrington  needed 
the  grace  of  God  in  his  heart  more  than  Ruth  Halsted. 


24  Time  and  Chance 

CHAPTER    VI 

AN   EMERGENCY    WELL  MET 

AND  so  the  Judsons  and  the  Browns  and  the  Crosbys, 
advance  ripples  of  the  tide  of  Empire,  went  slowly 
rolling  and  bowling  to  the  west.  They  followed  the 
winding  roadway  through  the  valleys,  where  tall  green 
hills  arose  on  either  side;  they  crossed  cooling  streams, 
and  curious  bridges,  the  pieces  all  pegged  together  with 
out  the  sign  of  a  nail. 

They  passed  by  stately  silent  forests,  and  moved 
through  villages  where  all  the  people  came  out  and 
stared, — some  wishing  them  God-speed.  And  sometimes 
they  stopped  for  an  hour  or  so  at  log  houses  by  the  way. 
And  then  the  women  would  go  in  and  compare  babies 
and  exchange  little  confidences;  and  the  men  would  talk 
about  the  crops  and  the  hard  times  there  in  the  East 
where  the  pressure  of  modern  ways  bore  heavily.  And 
when  they  would  pass  on  they  would  be  given  garden 
truck,  and  sage,  sassafras  or  thoroughwort  to  make  tea 
for  the  children,  if  they  chanced  to  get  sick.  Then  the 
oxen  would  be  urged  forward  and  the  women  would 
wave  aprons  as  a  last  salute.  At  night  they  would  camp 
near  a  stream  where  the  picking  was  good,  for  the  ani 
mals  must  have  food  and  water.  Sometimes  it  rained  and 
one  spell  it  was  cloudy  and  drizzly  for  three  days.  The 
children  that  drove  the  sheep  got  wet  and  cold  and  some 
of  them  cried  a  bit,  and  the  sheep  bleated  mournfully 
and  the  cows  moohed  as  if  they  were  homesick ;  and  once 
when  Jedediah  started  a  hymn  he  had  to  sing  it  all  alone 
by  himself. 

Little  John's  yellow  cheeks  had  changed  to  blue  and 
his  teeth  chattered,  but  he  held  tight  to  the  squirrel  bas- 


An  Emergency  Well  Met  25 

ket  and  quite  protested  when  Nathan  showed  him  how  to 
suspend  it  from  the  hickory  center-stick  that  ran  over 
the  bows.  But  finally  he  hung  the  basket  up  and  lay 
back  on  a  bear-skin  that  Ruth  tucked  tenderly  around 
him.  They  ate  a  cold  supper  that  night,  for  no  dry 
wood  could  be  found. 

"  Is  it  goin'  to  be  a  Noah's  flood,  Ruth  ?  " 

"  No,  dear  little  boy,  the  rain  is  needed  to  make  the 
crops  grow — the  sun  will  be  out  to-morrow!  " 

"  But  you  said  that  yesterday!  " 

"  Did  I  ?  well,  I  was  mistaken — but  wait  until  to 
morrow  and  you  '11  see." 

And  Ruth  was  right ;  for  the  next  morning  the  sun 
came  out,  and  came  out,  and  came  out,  and  the  sky  was 
so  blue  as  never  was. 

They  had  passed  out  of  New  England    and  were  in 

York  State " :  the  children  had  expected  a  great 
change  but  things  looked  about  the  same. 

Only  a  little  way  and  we  reach  the  mighty  Hudson," 
shouted  Captain  Judson,  as  the  march  was  again  taken  up. 

The  same  morning  at  ten  o'clock,  from  the  top  of  a 
high  hill,  they  saw  the  wide  expanse  of  the  Hudson 
River.  From  here  the  way  was  down  grade,  like  the 
road  to  perdition,  explained  Deacon  Brown;  yet  all  were 
very  merry,  for  it  looked  as  if  they  were  getting  almost 
to  the  journey's  end — they  were  making  head  anyway. 
And  this  was  a  point  that  the  children  had  begun  to 
question. 

The  road  led  down  to  the  ferry  landing. 

The  ferry  was  simply  a  flat  boat  with  a  high  railing 
around  the  sides  like  a  fence.  It  was  propelled  by  poles 
and  one  big  sculling  oar  at  the  stern.  The  approach  to 
the  boat  was  by  a  platform  on  hinges  that  was  raised 
and  lowered  by  a  windlass. 


26  Time  and  Chance 

'  The  craft  's  hardly  big  enough  for  two  carts — it  will 
take  several  trips  to  set  us  all  over,"  said  Captain 
Judson,  as  they  approached. 

Two  men  sat  on  the  fence  rail  of  the  boat  smoking. 
They  showed  a  dull  indifference  to  the  approaching 
emigrants. 

They  returned  Captain  Judson's  cheery  hail  with  mere 
grunts  and  made  no  motion  to  lower  the  drawbridge. 

'  This  be  the  ferry,  neighbor,  I  guess,"  called  Deacon 
Brown  as  they  came  to  a  halt. 

'  Yes,  old  man,  you  guessed  it  the  first  time — want  to 
go  over  ?  " 

"  Certainly  we  do — we  are  bound  for  the  Western 
Reserve." 

'  Wall,  haste  makes  waste,  as  the  old  sayin'  is:  don't 
git  in  a  sweat,  and  we  '11  git  you  over — there  's  a  hell  of 
a  lot  o'  you,  though!  " 

'  Your  language  is  not  the  best,  brother,  but  there  is 
quite  a  company  of  us  and  the  quicker  we  begin  opera 
tions  the  better." 

'  Wall,  you  can't  be  too  quick  for  us!  " 
"  Oh,  you  mean  about  the  pay  ?  " 
"  Slightly — we    don't   keep    this    'ere    ferry    for   our 
health." 

"  Surely  not — how  much  is  it  ?  a  shilling  apiece  for 
the  carts  and  two  shillings  for  the  wagon,  a  settler  told 
us  a  few  miles  back — then  there  's  the  sheep  and  cows 
extra,  of  course  — 

A   shilling   apiece  for  ferryin'    a   cart  ?     hear   him, 
Bill!" 

The  two  men  had  come  down  on  shore  now  and  were 
smoking  and  whittling. 

Bill  laughed  a  guffaw,  swore,  spat,  and  guffawed  again. 
Bill  was  dark-whiskered,  dirty,  small,  and  bow-legged. 


An  Emergency  Well  Met  27 

His  companion  was  younger,  and  had  a  shade  more  intel 
ligence  ;  he  was  tall,  awkward,  and  shambling,  and  his  little 
black  eyes  twinkled  with  amusement  when  he  repeated : 

"  Ashillin'  a  cart!  !  " 

The  two  ferrymen  climbed  back  on  their  boat  and 
again  perched  on  the  rail.  They  rilled  their  pipes  afresh 
and  smoked  with  the  calm  deliberation  and  peace  that  a 
sense  of  monopoly  always  gives.  Godliness  with  con 
tentment  is  great  gain,  but  a  monopoly  of  a  good  thing 
will  answer  most  purposes. 

"You  talk  to  'em,"  nudged  Captain  Judson  to  Nathan. 

"  No,  let  the  Deacon  be  spokesman." 

"  Look  you,  brother,"  called  the  Deacon,  "  will  you 
answer  a  question  fair  and  honest  ?  " 

"  Wall,  we  are  allus  fair  and  generally  honest  in  all  our 
dealin's,  haint  we,  Bill  ?  " 

Bill  guffawed. 

"  Tell  me,  do  you  ferry  carts  over  for  a  shilling  each  ?  " 

"  Not  yourn!  " 

"  Answer  yes  or  no." 

"  Wall,  yes." 

"  And  if  you  take  others  over  for  that  price,  why  not 
us  ?  " 

"  Now,  old  man,  be  reasonable;  this  ferry  is  ourn ; 
folks  that  live  around  here — good,  decent  folks — we  carry 
for  a  shillin'.  You  are  emigrants  goin'  off,  the  devil 
knows  where.  We  will  never  see  you  agin — you  don't 
care  a  dam  for  us  and  we  don't  care  a  dam  for  you.  It  'ull 
cost  you  jist  five  dollars  for  yer  wagon,  three  dollars  for 
each  cart,  and  a  shillin'  apiece  for  yer  cows  and  sheep. 
Pay  or  git  out — we  only  do  this  for  'commodation  any 
way,  eh!  Bill  ?" 

Bill  removed  his  pipe  and  guffawed  from  out  the  depths 
of  his  tangled  whiskers. 


28  Time  and  Chance 

The  women  in  the  carts  were  looking  on  anxiously. 
Things  were  getting  strained — there  was  a  tensity  in  the  air 
— the  babies  began  to  cry  and  the  older  children  gulped. 

"  Ruth!" 

11  What  is  it,  John  ?  " 

'  Will  we  have  to  go  back  to  Torrington,  do  you 
think  ?  " 

"  No,  little  boy,  we  have  started  for  the  Western  Re 
serve,  and  I  think  we  will  go  there." 

'  Yes,  I  think  we  will  go  to  the  Western  'Serve — hold 
my  hand,  Ruth  !  " 

The  four  men  of  our  party  had  drawn  apart  and  were 
conversing  in  an  undertone. 

"  It  will  cost  thirty  dollars  if  we  pay  their  price — nearly 
half  of  all  the  money  we  have  " 

Suppose  we  give  them  a  sheep!" 
I  have  two  new  pairs  of  shoes  we  might  put  in," 
said  Deacon  Brown. 

"  And  there  are  several  bolts  of  cloth,"  added 
Jedediah. 

"  I  will  try  them  on  a  trade,"  said  the  Deacon. 

And  so  he  walked  down  to  the  water's  edge  and  tried 
to  trade  cloth  and  leather  and  mutton  for  passage.  But 
the  men  were  obdurate. 

Git  out !  do  we  keep  a  junk  shop  ?  I  reckon  you  don't 
want  to  cross,  nohow — but  if  you  do  and  don't  like  our 
prices,  go  on  somewhar  else." 

But  the  next  ferry  was  twenty-four  miles  up  the  river 
and  the  men  who  owned  it  might  be  as  rapacious  as 
these.  Things  looked  desperate. 

Captain  Judson  advised  scraping  the  coin  together  out 
of  the  various  stockings. 

They  have  us — we  had  better  surrender  with  honor," 
said  the  Captain. 


An  Emergency  Well  Met  29 

Nathan  drew  some  silver  out  of  his  pocket  and  made 
pretense  of  counting  it.  As  he  did  so,  he  suggested  a 
plan. 

"  They  are  ungodly  men  or  I  never,  never  would  con 
sent  to  it,"  said  the  Deacon  under  his  breath.  Then 
they  all  fished  in  their  pockets  for  silver  and  they  put  it 
all  in  a  hat,  just  as  if  it  were  a  church  collection. 

Deacon  Brown  started  down  to  the  waterside  with  his 
offering,  and  the  others  followed  carelessly  after  with 
hands  in  their  pockets. 

The  two  men  on  the  perch  smiled,  knocked  the  ashes 
out  of  their  pipes  and  came  forward. 

'It  's  pretty  hard,  brother,"  said  the  Deacon,  "  to 
take  so  much  money  when  we  have  so  little.  Can't  you 
throw  off  just  a  bit  ?  " 

"  Not  a  dam  cent!    eh!  Bill?" 

Bill  guffawed.  The  man  reached  forward  to  take  the 
hat  containing  the  money. 

He  did  not  take  it. 

Nathan  standing  at  his  side  had  caught  him  by  the 
waist  and  lifting  him  in  the  air  dashed  him  on  his  back, 
and  had  fallen  upon  the  fellow's  chest  with  such  force 
that  the  breath  left  his  body  in  a  grunt. 

The  three  other  men  stood  about  the  bewhiskered  and 
astonished  Bill  with  upraised  ox  goads. 

That    rope    in    the  tail  end  of    the    cart !  "    shouted 
Nathan,  as  he  pinned  his  squirming  man  to  the  ground. 

Little  John  slid  from  his  seat  and  dragged  out  the  rope 
in  a  twinkling. 

'  Here,  Ruth,  wrap  it  around  his  legs.  If  you  kick, 
you  scoundrel,  I  "11  strangle  you,"  and  the  young  man's 
steely  grasp  clutched  around  the  man's  throat. 

The  man  did  not  kick;  and  Ruth  and  little  John  took 
a  full  dozen  tight  coils  around  the  fellow's  legs. 


3O  Time  and  Chance 

Meanwhile,  the  boys  and  girls  who  drove  the  sheep 
came  up,  and  administered  various  strokes  and  prods  and 
digs  and  slashes  at  the  prostrate  man  with  their  sticks. 

Nathan  completed  the  tying  with  sailor-like  skill  and 
then  turned  his  attention  to  Bill.  His  hands  were  tied 
securely  behind  him,  although  he  begged  hard  for  mercy. 
Then  he  offered  to  ferry  the  whole  party  over  free,  but 
Deacon  Brown  offered  him  a  dollar,  seeing  they  would 
have  to  supply  their  own  motive  power. 

Bill  consented  and  so  did  the  gentleman  on  the  grass. 
The  drawbridge  was  lowered,  the  oxen  unyoked,  and  all 
took  hold  and  with  a  long  pull  and  strong  pull  and  a  pull 
altogether  the  big  wagon  was  run  on  the  boat.  Then 
the  women  and  the  babies  were  put  aboard  and  they 
pushed  off. 

Bill's  hands  were  unloosed  and  he  worked  the  oar  vig 
orously,  while  Captain  Judson  looked  after  him  with  the 
butt  end  of  a  whip. 

The  farther  shore  was  reached  without  difficulty,  all 
singing  as  they  disembarked  : 

"  Over  the  Dark  River  Thou  hast  guided  us." 

The  wagon  was  unloaded  and  the  men  and  boys 
started  back  for  another  load. 

Two  trips  more  and  all  were  safely  over,  down  to  the 
last  black-faced  lamb  and  John's  squirrel. 

The  man  tied  fast  with  the  long  coil  of  rope  was  on 
the  opposite  bank.  Bill  was  alone  with  his  ferry  on  the 
western  shore. 

"  Hold  on,  William  !  before  you  go  over  to  release  your 
evil  companion,  one  word  with  thee,"  said  Deacon 
Brown.  The  Deacon  had  no  love  for  the  Quakers,  yet 
when  engaged  in  purely  religious  duties,  he  always  used 
the  "  thee  "  and  "  thou." 


Joy  Abideth  but  a  Day  31 

Bill  came  ashore  and  stood  dogged  on  the  bank. 

"It  grieves  me  to  know  that  thou  art  an  ungodly  man." 

Bill  made  no  defense,  because  there  was  no  defense  to 
make. 

'  William,  repeat  after  me  the  Lord's  Prayer!  " 

And  so  the  Deacon  said  the  prayer,  three  words  at  a 
time,  and  Bill  repeated  them  after  him. 

After  which  Jedediah  took  the  man  in  hand  and  made 
him  repeat  the  Apostles'  Creed.  Then  they  collected 
two  shillings  from  him  for  the  rope  that  was  in  the  pos 
session  of  his  partner,  and  started  away. 

The  women  had  yoked  the  oxen.  And  as  the  carts 
and  the  big  wagon  moved  slowly  off  up  the  hill,  Bill 
shouted  a  curse  and  pushed  the  ferry  clear  of  the  landing. 

The  curse  was  not  heard,  however,  for  the  loud,  clear 
strains  of  a  hymn  drowned  even  the  loud  creaking  of  the 
carts,  and  high  over  all  could  be  distinguished  Mrs. 
Judson's  sharp  falsetto: 

"  Safely  through  another  week,  Thou  hast  brought  us  on  our  way." 


CHAPTER   VII 

JOY   ABIDETH    BUT   A   DAY 

BUT  now  the  road  was  narrow  and  rocky  and  difficult, 
as  the  road  to  Paradise  always  is,  Deacon  Brown 
explained. 

There  were  high  hills  to  cross  where  the  ox  teams  had 
to  double  up  and  all  hands  pushed.  Occasionally  there 
were  swamps  where  "  corduroy  "  roads  had  been  made; 
and  where  the  spring  floods  had  disarranged  the  roadbed 
logs  had  to  be  cut  and  moved  into  place. 

Even  then  it  sometimes  happened  that  a  cart  would 


32  Time  and  Chance 

get  stuck  in  the  mud.  But  by  prying  with  long  poles 
and  hitching  on  an  extra  team  or  two  the  conspiracy 
of  the  mire  would  be  overcome.  And  at  night  when 
prayers  were  said  Deacon  Brown  would  specify  the  facts 
and  thank  the  Lord  for  having  delivered  them  out  of  the 
hand  of  the  enemy. 

It  was  formerly  believed  by  many  that  Providence  did 
not  watch  over  affairs  west  of  the  Hudson  except  in  the 
cases  of  stray  Puritan  emigrants.  The  Judsons  and  the 
Browns  rather  inclined  to  this  belief,  but  the  Crosbys  did 
not  trouble  themselves  much  about  it. 

In  fact  true  lovers  are  Pantheists  or  Pagans  ever. 
Lovers  are  credulous — they  have  a  faith  in  the  mir 
aculous  beyond  the  wildest  dreams  of  merely  pious 
people. 

Love  is  at  once  an  isolation  and  an  absorption.  And 
so  Nathan  and  Ruth  lived  a  little  above,  and  outside, 
and  beyond  the  rest  of  the  camp. 

They  were  very  happy. 

They  saw  signs  in  the  clouds,  and  portents  in  the  trees, 
and  heard  a  message  in  the  breeze :  they  called  each 
other's  attention  to  this  or  that  as  they  passed,  by  a  nod 
or  a  smile  or  a  wave  of  the  hand,  and  they  had  a  little 
sign  language  of  their  own  as  lovers  always  have.  Some 
times  Ruth  would  walk  by  the  side  of  the  steers  and 
drive  them  herself,  while  Nathan  would  go  ahead. 

"  A  woman  should  never  learn  to  do  a  thing  she  has  n't 
got  to  do,  for  some  day  her  man  will  make  her  do  it 
whether  or  no,"  said  Mrs.  Judson  quietly  to  Ruth. 

And  that  night  Ruth  of  course  told  Nathan  and  they 
thought  it  very  funny.  They  were  happy,  so  happy, 
happy  all  day  long;  full  of  joy  and  peace  at  night  and 
glad  in  the  morning.  And  the  thought  that  the  joy 
could  ever  end  had  never  occurred  to  them. 


Joy  Abideth  but  a  Day  33 

There  was  little  bickering  in  the  camp,  all  were  con 
tent,  even  though  various  temperaments  were  repre 
sented.  Not  one  of  all  the  score  was  conscious  of  a 
stomach,  not  one  had  "  nerves."  Trouble  might  come, 
but  if  so  it  must  be  a  tangible  thing,  not  a  mere  trumped 
up  sprite  of  the  brain. 

They  were  well — were  these  people — for  all  things  that 
live  in  the  open  air  have  health.  Quails,  kingfishers  and 
blue-jays  never  go  into  a  decline;  neither  does  the  chip 
munk's  health  fail.  The  free,  boisterous  winds  of  heaven 
blow  dull  care  away. 

Plague-struck  envy  and  puling  discontent  are  part  of 
the  price  we  pay  for  civilization.  God  made  the  coun 
try,  man  the  town. 

The  days  passed  and  still  they  pushed  on.  The  settle 
ments  were  now  far  apart  and  single  houses  rare.  At 
night  wolves  would  sometimes  howl  about  the  camp  and 
the  wild  scream  of  panthers  could  be  heard  coming  from 
the  depths  of  the  forest. 

There  were  occasional  reports  of  marauding  bands 
of  Indians  that  ranged  the  forests  and  lay  in  wait  for 
travelers.  At  night  a  guard  was  set — the  men  taking 
turns  of  two  hours  each  when  they  watched  with  rifle  in 
hand. 

But  the  wildness  of  the  woods  had  no  fear  for  these 
people — it  meant  freedom.  Five  generations  of  men  who 
had  dared  the  dangers  of  the  sea  and  the  savagery  of 
things  on  land  had  bred  in  them  a  stolid  indifference  to 
peril.  Besides  all  this  they  had  faith  in  God.  Had  He 
not  led  His  chosen  people  out  of  bondage  ?  He,  watch 
ing  over  Israel,  slumbers  not  nor  sleeps. 

But  God's  wrath  fell  on  that  happy  company — fell  on 
them  as  the  lightning  singles  out  the  tallest,  strongest 
oak  and  shatters  it  to  the  very  roots  at  a  single  blazing 


34  Time  and  Chance 

blast.  For  who  can  endure  even' when  His  wrath  is  kin 
dled  but  a  little! 

The  caravan  was  moving  up  a  rocky  hillside.  The 
road  was  very  narrow. 

Above  rose  the  green  hill  and  below  lay  a  rocky  gorge. 
The  young  oxen  began  to  crowd  and  the  wheels  of  the 
heavy  cart  slid  dangerously  near  the  edge.  Nathan  en 
deavored  to  force  the  steers  to  the  other  side.  The  tired 
animals  stopped.  The  cart  with  its  heavy  load  was  pull 
ing  them  back,  and  the  wheels  were  slowly  slipping  over 
the  loose  stones  of  the  bank.  The  young  man  threw  his 
shoulder  against  the  wheel  and  endeavored  to  urge  the 
oxen  forward.  The  shale  slipped  and  a  sudden  balking 
move  of  the  oxen  sent  the  cart  toppling  over.  Nathan 
sprang  back — a  grape  vine  caught  his  heel — he  fell  and 
the  big  hub  struck  him  square  on  the  chest,  pinning  him 
fast.  It  was  full  ten  minutes  before  two  saplings  could 
be  cut  for  pries,  and  that  ton  of  weight  lifted  from  his 
form. 

He  struggled  to  speak—  '  Ruth — Ruth"  -but  the 
message  was  not  given.  The  look  of  anguish  faded  from 
the  face  and  in  its  place  came  a  half  smile,  a  smile  of 
peace  and  perfect  rest. 

:<  He  's  just  going  to  say  something,"  said  little  John. 

"  Silence,  boy,"  sternly  said  Deacon  Brown,  "  the 
man  is  dead." 

They  wrapped  the  body  in  a  bed-quilt — one  of  those 
five  quilts  given  as  wedding  presents.  Strong  hands 
righted  the  cart,  drew  it  up  on  the  road,  blocked  the 
wheels,  and  replaced  the  load.  Then  they  gently  lifted 
the  lifeless  form  of  the  owner  into  this  hearse  that  his 
own  hands  had  formed  and  fashioned. 

The  women  tried  to  lead  Ruth  away  ;  but  no,  she  took 
up  the  goad  from  where  it  had  fallen  from  her  husband's 


Joy  Abideth  but  a  Day  35 

grasp ;  she  did  not  shed  a  tear  nor  utter  a  cry ;  she  started 
the  oxen  forward,  walking  by  their  side.  The  caravan 
moved  on,  and  mile  after  mile,  as  the  rays  of  the  burn 
ing  sun  fell,  they  went  steadily  forward.  The  women 
were  astonished  at  Ruth's  actions;  the  men  were  hushed 
into  silence;  the  children  thought  that  death  was  only 
sleep. 

Several  hours  passed,  and  still  the  carts  creaked  wearily 
westward. 

"  She  don't  seem  to  have  no  feelin's,"  said  Mrs.  Jud- 
son  in  an  undertone  to  her  husband. 

The  Captain  might  have  answered  that  there  were  sor 
rows  too  deep  for  tears,  but  he  said  nothing. 

He  died  in  his  sins — it  's  a  warning,"  said  Jedediah. 
True,  he  had  never  acknowledged  his  Saviour,"  an 
swered  Deacon  Brown,  "  but  he  was  a  manly  fellow  and 
I  doubt  not  was  a  true  Christian  at  heart— if  so,  he  's 
saved.  '  For  His  mercy  is  from  everlasting  to  ever 
lasting!  ' 

"  He  never  confessed  Christ  before  men,  '  and  whoso 
ever  is  ashamed  of  Me  before  men,  him  will  I  also  be 
ashamed  of  in  the  Day  of  Judgment,'"  continued 
Jedediah. 

'  Judge  not  that  ye  be  not  judged,'  "  answered  the 
Deacon  as  he  waved  the  young  man  away. 

When  they  came  to  a  halt  at  sundown,  Ruth's  eyes 
were  bloodshot  and  two  bright  pink  spots  burned  on  her 
cheeks. 

This  hectic  flush  only  enhanced  her  beauty.  And  the 
quiet  of  her  manner  might  have  been  quite  in  keeping 
with  her  womanly  dignity :  but  the  quiet  was  of  a  pecul 
iar,  fearful  kind. 

Jedediah  thought  he  would  say  a  few  words  of  comfort 
to  her ;  he  approached,  looked  at  her,  and — changed  his 


36  Time  and  Chance 

mind.  The  women  came  and  kissed  her  on  the  cheek, 
but  she  only  gazed  back  stolidly — dumbly. 

"  Father  says  Nathan  is  dead — stone  dead — and  won't 
never  come  to  life  till  the  Judgment  Day,  but  I  'm  here, 
Ruth,  don't  you  see!  Ruth,  why  don't  you  answer  ? 
I  'm  going  to  take  care  of  you  !  "  and  little  John  caressed 
her  hand. 

Then  tears  came  to  her  relief;  sanity  came  back  and 
she  faced  her  grief,  as  women  have  since  the  world  be 
gan,  and  as  men  and  women  must  until  the  heavens  shall 
be  rolled  together  as  scroll;  for  joy  abideth  but  a  day, 
but  the  sorrow  of  man  endureth  forever. 


CHAPTER   VIII 


IT  rained  that  night :  dark,  angry  clouds  scurried  across 
the  face  of  the  murky  sky,  and  rumbling,  threatening 
thunder  reverberated  constantly,  sending  its  dull  boom 
ing  miles  and  miles  across  wild  stretches  of  rock  and 
glade,  of  forest  and  swamp. 

The  dogs  whined  under  the  wagons  as  they  sought  a 
dry  place,  the  lonesome  sheep  bleated,  the  horses  turned 
their  tails  to  the  storm,  and  as  the  lightning  shone  out 
they  could  be  seen  standing  with  humped  backs  and 
lowered  heads. 

Ruth  was  alone  with  her  dead. 

The  women  had  tried  to  take  her  away,  as  the  men 
had  made  arrangements  to  watch  by  the  corpse,  but  her 
firm  will  overruled  them  and  she  was  alone  in  the  canvas- 
covered  cart  with  her  beloved.  She  covered  the  stiffen 
ing  form  carefully  as  if  to  keep  out  the  chill,  seemingly 


Sorrow's  Respite  Found  in  Work  37 

not  knowing  that  the  cold  and  damp  were  now  his 
portion. 

The  load  had  been  partially  removed,  and  she  sat  in 
one  of  the  hickory  chairs  and  leaned  her  tired  head  on 
the  bent  bows  that  his  hand  had  shaped. 

She  thought  she  could  keep  her  vigil  until  morning,  for 
how  could  sleep  come  and  keep  company  with  despair  ? 

The  dull  hours  passed,  and  the  big  raindrops  fell  with 
monotonous  thump  on  the  sail-cloth  and  trickled  over 
the  sides  on  spoke  and  tire. 

The  splashing  steps  of  the  man  on  watch  could  be 
heard  as  he  made  his  rounds. 

The  hours  wore  on  and  when  daylight  came,  cold  and 
gray,  Mrs.  Brown  picked  her  way  over  to  the  cart  where  lay 
the  dead.  She  parted  the  canvas  and  looked  in.  There 
by  the  side  of  her  lover  lay  Ruth,  one  arm  thrown  across 
his  form,  sleeping  peacefully:  her  breath  coming  and  go 
ing  in  the  slow,  measured  rhythm  of  youth  and  health. 


CHAPTER   IX 

SORROW'S  RESPITE  FOUND  IN  WORK 

BEFORE  noon  the  sun  came  out  warm  and  pleasant. 
The  drooping  boughs,  heavy  with  their  weight  of 
water,  glittered  and  glistened  in  the  bright  rays,  and  sent 
a  merry  shower  on  all  who  chanced  to  brush  against  them. 
For  several  hours  the  men  up  on  the  hillside  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  away  had  been  busy  with  ax  and  adze,  and  pick 
and  shovel.     A  rude  coffin  had  been  made  from  boards 
split  from  a  butternut  log,  and  then  smoothed  with  an 
adze.     A  grave  was  dug.     The  coffin  was  then  carried, 


38  Time  and  Chance 

with  solemn  steps  and  slow,  down  to  the  camp,  and  the 
body  was  placed  in  it. 

Jedediah  read  the  Thirty-eighth  Psalm,  a  hymn  was 
sung,  Deacon  Brown  made  a  short  address,  naming  one 
by  one  the  various  virtues  of  the  deceased,  and  ending 
with  the  warning,  "  '  Be  ye  also  ready,  for  ye  know  not 
the  day  nor  the  hour  when  the  Son  of  Man  cometh.'  ' 
Another  hymn  and  then  a  prayer;  then  all  filed  past,— 
children  too,  for  the  lesson  of  this  tragic  taking  away 
must  not  be  lost  on  them, — and  took  a  last  farewell  view 
of  that  cold  and  quiet  face. 

The  slab  that  served  for  the  top  of  the  coffin  was  ad 
justed,  and  wound  in  place  with  various  hickory  withes. 
Two  stout  sticks  were  placed  beneath  the  head  and  foot; 
and  Captain  Judson,  Deacon  Brown,  Jedediah,  and  Joe 
lifted  the  bier  and  bore  it  slowly  up  the  slope. 

Ruth  and  Mrs.  Brown  followed  behind,  the  rest  came 
two  by  two.  The  coffin  was  lowered  by  means  of  reins 
taken  from  a  harness.  The  Deacon  sprinkled  a  handful  of 
soil  into  the  grave  and  said,  "  Dust  to  dust,  ashes  to 
ashes." 

A  short  prayer  was  offered,  and  with  a  shovel,  working 
rapidly,  spelling  each  other,  the  men  quickly  filled  the 
grave,  mounded  up  the  earth,  and  patted  it  down  with 
the  back  of  the  spade. 

An  oak  slab  with  the  name,  age  and  date  of  death  of 
the  dead  was  driven  in  at  the  head  of  the  grave.  The 
company  turned  and  went  down  the  hill. 

Mrs.  Brown  walked  on  one  side  of  Ruth  and  little  John 
trotted  along  on  the  other,  holding  her  hand. 

The  Deacon  approached :  '  Ruth  —  I  mean  Mrs. 
Crosby — -we  can't  take  you  back  to  your  folks,  you 
know;  we  are  two  hundred  miles  and  more  from  Tor- 
rington;  but  like  enough  we  will  meet  someone  goin' 


Sorrow's  Respite  Found  in  Work  39 

that  way  and  then  you  can  go  back — I  will  buy  your  cart 
and  — " 

"  I  do  not  think  I  will  go  back!  " 

"  Not  go  back  to  your  father  and  mother  ?  " 

"  No,  Nathan  wanted  me  to  go  on  with  you  all!  " 

"  Nathan!  why,  when  did  he  say  so  ?  " 

"  He  did  not  say  so;  his  last  words  as  you  heard  were 
my  name,  and  he  was  going  to  tell  me  to  go  on,  but  his 
breath  failed." 

"  Going  to  tell  you  to  go  on  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  could  always  anticipate  his  thought—' 

"  That  's  right,  Ruth,"  broke  in  Mrs.  Judson,  "  you 
must  stay  with  us." 

'  Yes,  it  would  be  foolish  to  go  back,"  spoke  Jedediah. 
'  Hurrah!  "  said  red-faced,  thirteen-year-old  Joe  as  he 
turned  a  somersault  on  the  grass,  "  she  's  not  goin'  back, 
boys,  what  did  I  tell  you  ?  " 

This    was   addressed  to  the  children  tagging  behind. 
Mrs.  Brown  stepped  forward  and  gave  the  lad  a  smart 
box  on  the  ear,  with  a  "  Take  that,  will  you!  " 
'  You  can  have  my  Sis,"  said  Mrs.  Judson. 
And  my  John  is  yourn  already,"  said  Mrs.  Brown. 

"  And  we  all — esteem  you  very  much,"  said  Jedediah. 

"  Go  and  kiss  her,  Sis,  and  tell  her  you  will  ride  in  her 
cart  and  be  with  her  all  the  time,"  continued  Mrs.  Jud 
son,  shifting  her  baby  to  the  other  arm. 

Sis  was  fourteen.  Sis  was  tall  and  bony  and  awkward. 
She  had  grown  too  fast,  and  people  had  spoken  of  her 
height  until  she  had  tried  to  conceal  it  by  a  stoop  and 
had  become  round-shouldered.  Her  hair  was  very 
straight  and  hung  in  rat-tails,  and  was  generally  in  her 
eyes.  She  had  a  way  of  constantly  brushing  it  away  from 
her  line  of  vision — probably  in  response  to  a  perpetual 
snarl : 


4O  Time  and  Chance 

Sis,  git  your  hair  outen  your  eyes — what  did  I  tell 
you !  " 

When  she  was  dressed  up  these  rat-tails  were  all  pushed 
straight  back  up,  so  that  they  lifted  her  eyebrows  and 
showed  her  high,  narrow  forehead.  Then  these  tails 
were  tied  in  place  by  a  yellow  calico  string — a  bit  of  car 
pet  rag — that  ran  behind  her  ears  and  up  over  the  top  of 
her  head. 

She  had  always  gone  barefoot  until  this  summer,  and 
her  shoes  hurt  her  feet  and  spoiled  her  gait;  her  ankles 
were  thin  and  one  stocking  was  usually  down  around  her 
shoe  top. 

What  you  standin'  there  for,  awkwardness — be  you 
deef  ?  go  kiss  Ruth  Halsted  and  tell  her  you  will  stay  with 
her,"  ordered  Mrs.  Judson. 

The  girl  made  an  embarrassed  motion  to  push  the 
hair  from  her  eyes,  but  did  not  move.  Ruth  stepped 
over  and  kissed  her  gently,  and,  taking  the  big  red  hand 
in  her  own,  moved  away  to  where  the  oxen  were  grazing. 

All  were  busy  yoking  up.  The  camp  was  in  a  stir  get 
ting  ready  for  departure. 

"  I  kin  hook  up  them  steers,  I  kin,"  said  Sis. 

"  I  'm  glad,  for  then  we  need  not  call  on  others," 
Ruth  replied. 

"  Mother  says  I  'm  awkward  as  awkward,  but  I  haint 
ef  there  's  work  to  be  did." 

"  I  don't  think  you  are  awkward." 

"  Well,  I  am  ef  I  'm  standin'  still." 

'  Well,  it 's  better  to  be  awkward  when  idle  and  grace 
ful  at  work,  than  to  be  awkward  at  work  and  graceful 
when  idle." 

"  Say  that  agin,  please,  and  not  so  fast." 

Ruth  repeated  the  remark. 

"  Lordy — I   guess  that  's  so — though    I    don't  zakly 


Sorrow's  Respite  Found  in  Work  41 

understand — I  think  I  must  be  deef,  as  mother  says  — 
whoa,  Buck!  back  up  there — you  Bright!  "  and  the  goad 
descended  with  a  whack. 

They  started  away — nineteen  souls  in  all.  Sis  walked 
and  drove  the  steers;  then  Ruth  took  a  turn  at  it,  and 
little  John  told  them  how.  The  road  was  better  now  and 
led  along  a  great  quiet  valley.  It  was  an  hour  after  dark 
before  they  camped  that  night;  the  moon  rose  bright 
and  full  over  the  eastern  hill  and  lighted  the  way. 

Early  the  next  morning  they  started  again. 

' '  Land  sakes !  who  braided  your  hair,  Sis  ? ' '  called  Mrs. 
Judson  to  her  daughter. 

'  Her!  "  said  Sis,  pointing  to  Ruth. 

And  dear  me,  if  you  haint  tied  your  shoes  for  once, 
and  from  the  looks  of  your  stockin's  you  *ve  got  on  your 
garters!  " 

Sis  was  walking  by  the  side  of  the  oxen ;  Ruth  and 
John  sat  on  the  seat.  Ruth  was  weaving  slough  grass 
into  long  strips  to  make  a  straw  hat  for  Sis,  to  take  the 
place  of  the  sun-bonnet  which  she  usually  wore  hanging 
on  her  back. 

'  What  's  in  Bob's  basket,  Ruth,  guess  ?  " 

"  Bob?" 
'  No,  see!  " 

John  showed  the  empty  basket.  Peeking  out  from  the 
front  of  his  open  roundabout  gleamed  two  little  black 
eyes.  By  bribes  of  nuts  the  squirrel  was  induced  to 
come  out.  He  perched  on  John's  shoulder  nibbling  at 
the  meaty  morsels. 

By  and  by  Ruth  got  off  to  drive  and  Sis  sat  on  the 
seat.  John  trotted  behind  and  on  his  shoulder  perched 
the  squirrel. 

"  Land  sakes!  "  said  Mrs.  Judson,  "  what  next!  " 


42  Time  and  Chance 

CHAPTER   X 

CONFORM    OR   FIGHT 

ONE  can  endure  sorrow,  but  it  takes  two  to  be  glad. 
The  laughter  had  died  from  Ruth's  voice,  the  light 
had  gone  from  her  eyes,  and  there  came  a  soft,  subdued 
sadness — a  dumb  resignation.  The  constant  physical 
exercise,  to  a  great  degree,  kept  carking  care  at  bay  ;  and, 
wise  woman  that  she  was,  she  filled  the  spare  moments 
with  useful  effort  in  behalf  of  others. 

But  in  a  month  she  had  changed  from  a  blooming  girl 
of  twenty  into  a  sallow  woman  of  thirty. 

'  It  was  a  judgment,"  said  Jedediah  to  his  mother. 
Yes,  she  was  too  frivolous." 
Fond  of  ornament  and  pleasures  of  the  world." 
Yes,  and  so  the  hand  of  God  was  laid    heavy  'pon 
her — but  it  's  all  for  the  best." 

True,  it  's  His  plan.     Just  see  how  she  has  changed 
for  good — so  circumspect." 

Jedediah? " 
"  Well— say  it." 

'  You  will  be  reg'lar  ordained  and  installed  in  a  charge 
when  we  git  to  the  Reserve?  " 
'  Yes,  if  it  's  the  Lord's  will!  " 
"  And  you  will  need  a  help-meet?  " 
"  Ah,  I  had  never  thought  of  that." 
'  Yes,  Jedediah,  you  must  pray  to  be  guided  aright." 
Surely,  we  must  ask  Him  to  be  with  us  in  all  we  do." 
And  if  I  was  goin'  to  suggest  — " 
"  Yes,  Mother." 
Can't  you  guess,  Jed  ?  " 

No,  I  can't  imagine  what  you  're  comin'  at." 
"  Ruth  Halsted!  " 


Conform  or  Fight  43 

"  Well,  I  am  surprised — I  never  thought  o'  such  a 
thing." 

"  She  has  the  cart — 

"  But  not  the  grace  of  — 

"  And  the  steers— 

"  God  in  her  heart." 

"  And  a  feather  bed— 

"  But  without  religion." 

"  And  a  dozen  quilts — 
'  That  'so,  but — 

"  And  twenty  dollars  in  silver." 

"  Still  she  must  suffer  more — her  heart  is  not  yet  sub 
dued;  I  tried  to  be  friendly  with  her  this  morning, — I 
asked  after  her  spiritual  state." 

"  And  what  did  she  say  ?  " 

"  She  said  she  thought  my  mother  was  callin'  me." 

"  She  has  n't  the  realizin'  sense  of  savin'  grace — if  she 
could  really  be  brought  low  and  be  convicted  of  sin!  " 
'  That  's  what  I  was  thinkin'." 

When  evening  prayers  were  held  a  half  hour  later, 
Jedediah  prayed  for  "  one  in  our  midst  who  is  yet  in 
the  thrall  of  sin  and  the  bonds  of  iniquity.  Subdue, 

0  Lord,  her  stubborn  spirit  so  she  will  come  to  know 
Thee,  the  only  true  and  living  God — create  in  her  a  new 
heart,  O  Lord,  and  cause  her  to  turn  from  her  sins  and 
live." 

There  were  loud  responses  of  Amen,  and  all  felt  that 
there  was  an  awakening  of  power  such  as  had  not  been 
known  for  some  weeks. 

"  They  really  ought  to  let  the  girl  alone — that  's  what 

1  think,"  said  Mrs.  Brown  to  the  Deacon  after  they  had 
gone  to  bed  that  night. 

"  But,  wife,  you  know  she  has  never  really  been  con 
verted  !  ' ' 


44  Time  and  Chance 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,  but  she  is  as  good  as  the 
rest  of  us." 

"  Of  course  her  morality  is  all  right,  but  man's  right 
eousness  is  as  filthy  rags." 

'  Well,  there  may  be  two  kinds  o'  righteousness — I 
don't  know,  I  'm  only  a  woman  and  can't  argufy,  but 
'pears  to  me  she  's  as  good  as  us — see  how  patient  she  is, 
and  then  her  teachin'  all  the  children  their  letters  and 
learnin'  'em  to  count." 

"  I  know,  but,  Unity  Brown,  this  is  only  the  world's 
goodness — she  never  confessed  her  Saviour.  '  He  that 
believeth  and  is  baptized  shall  be  saved,  and  he  that  be- 
lieveth  not  shall  be  damned !  ' 

The  good  old  Deacon  had  Scripture  on  his  side,  and 
Mrs.  Brown  was  not  wholly  sure  but  that  she  was  in  the 
wrong,  anyway.  Her  defense  of  Ruth  was  only  a 
woman's  impulse.  Of  course  people  should  be  good,  and 
besides  that  they  should  not  hold  aloof  from  religion- 
Mrs.  Brown  knew  that. 

But  Ruth  was  not  godless.  In  childhood  she  had  been 
"  sprinkled  "  and  she  had  always  attended  church,  and 
took  part  in  the  singing,  and  bowed  her  head  during 
prayer,  and  listened  to  the  sermon.  But  when  others 
had  stood  up  and  made  public  professions,  she  had  kept 
still. 

She  could  not  think  of  God  as  a  great  big  man  who 
watched  people  and  set  down  in  a  book  all  their  actions 
— she  did  not  know  who  God  was  or  what  He  was. 
That  He  made  all  things  she  fully  felt  was  true,  and  that 
our  life  came  from  Him,  but  why  He  should  send  His 
Son  to  suffer  for  sins  that  others  had  committed,  she 
could  not  comprehend.  It  was  all  so  mysterious  and 
miraculous  and  wonderful — how  could  she  know  all  about 
God's  plans  ?  and  so  she  never  pretended  that  she  did. 


Conform  or  Fight  45 

At  prayers  now,  morning  and  evening  for  a  full  week, 
she  was  mentioned — not  by  name,  but  all  knew  who  was 
meant.  It  began  to  weigh  upon  her — this  being  spoken 
of  as  "  obdurate,"  "  stubborn,"  "  stiff-necked,"  etc. 
The  Deacon  had  come  to  her  and  talked  with  her  confi 
dentially  and  quietly;  Mrs.  Judson  had  done  the  same, 
and  Jedediah  had  attempted  it. 

Even  the  children  knew  that  they  were  trying  to  bring 
her  in,  and  they  stared  at  her  curiously.  A  sense  of  guilt 
began  to  prey  upon  her — she  grew  nervous. 

'  What  's  the  use  —  better  give  in!  "  blurted  Sis  one 
day  as  they  walked  by  the  side  of  the  oxen. 

"  Do  what,  Sis  ?  " 

"  Give  in — stand  up — 'cept  the  Saviour  and  be  bap 
tized." 

"  Should  I  do  so,  just  because  I  'm  urged,  Sis  ?  " 
'  What,  's  the  harm — it  can't  do  no  hurt,  and  then  " 

"  And  then  ?  " 

P'r'aps  they  're  right." 
'  Perhaps  they  are  right,"  mused  Ruth. 
'  It  stops  the  fuss  and  you  '11  feel  better,"  continued 
Sis  after  about  ten  minutes. 

"  Will  I  feel  better,  Sis  ?" 

'  Yes,  it  's  you  agin  them  now,  and  them  agin  you— 
there  's  no  pious  in  it,  it  's  jest  which  'ull  beat!  " 

That  night  at  prayers  Ruth  stood  up  and  said  in  a  low 
voice  that  she  wanted  to  give  her  heart  to  God  and  to  be 
a  thorough  Christian — to  be  filled  with  the  Christ-spirit. 
She  asked  all  present  to  pray  for  her  that  she  might 
walk  aright. 

"  Let  us  pray!  "  roared  Deacon  Brown. 

All  knelt.  Mrs.  Brown  was  on  one  side  of  Ruth  and 
Mrs.  Judson  on  the  other.  They  each  prayed  in  whispers 
and  the  Deacon  prayed  with  shouts,  and  when  he  had 


46  Time  and  Chance 

finished,  Jedediah  took  the  words  right  out  of  his  mouth 
and  continued  earnestly  for  five  minutes, and  then  Captain 
Judson  came  in  with  a  few  sentences.  Then  they  sang. 

"  Is  your  peace  made  with  God  ?  "  asked  the  Deacon. 

"  It  is,"  said  Ruth. 

"  Bless  the  Lord,  she  's  saved!  "  shouted  Jedediah. 

There  was  much  handshaking  and  some  joyous  weep 
ing,  and  all  felt  that  a  burden  had  been  dropped — a  ten 
sion  gone. 

'  Don't  you  feel  better  ?  "  asked  Sis  the  next  day  as 
they  journeyed. 

"  Yes,  Sis,  much  better." 

11  I  knew  you  would — 't  was  the  same  with  me." 

And  Ruth  did  feel  better.  The  grim  awakening  each 
morning  to  face  her  sorrow  was  not  quite  so  grim — and 
the  awful  loneliness  of  her  heart  was  not  quite  so  black. 
Whether  she  had  made  her  peace  with  God  is  not  for  us 
to  say,  but  she  had  made  peace  with  these  people  with 
whom  she  lived.  There  were  now  no  differences,  but  a 
close  bond  of  sympathy  between  them  all —  a  oneness  of 
hope — a  bond  of  fellowship. 

The  Deacon  made  plans  for  building  a  church  in  the 
New  Canaan  that  would  also  do  for  a  school-house,  where 
Ruth  should  teach  the  children  on  week  days. 

"  You  mean  a  school-house  where  there  will  be 
church,"  said  Mrs.  Brown. 

"  No,  Mother — I  don't  mean  no  such  thing — I  mean  a 
meetin'  house  that  can  be  used  for  a  school." 

At  times  when  Ruth  thought  of  the  good  she  might 
yet  be  able  to  do,  she  almost  smiled.  She  picked  thorns 
out  of  the  children's  feet,  and  smoothed  away  their 
childish  sorrows,  and  told  them  stories;  and  little  John 
hung  tightly  to  her  dress  most  all  the  time,  as  if  she 
might  get  away. 


Man  Proposes,  but  Woman  Disposes         47 

And  as  for  Sis,  she  kept  the  hair  out  of  her-  eyes  and 
wore  her  garters  and  laced  her  shoes. 

I  do  declare,  that  girl  haint  near  as  slovenly  as  she 
uster  was,"  said  Mrs.  Judson  more  than  once. 


CHAPTER    XI 

MAN    PROPOSES,    BUT   WOMAN   DISPOSES 

RUTH'S  patient,  gentle  spirit  had  won  the  love  of  the 
whole  camp ;  someway  they  all  looked  up  to  her  as 
a  sort  of  superior  being.  Her  strength  of  mind  held 
their  respect;  her  sadness  won  their  sympathy.  Such 
resignation  in  affliction — who  could  withstand  the  sweet 
influence  of  such  a  soul  ?  Her  smile  was  a  benediction. 

"  It  's  religion  done  it,"  said  Mrs.  Judson. 

"  It  is  strange,"  said  Mrs.  Brown,  "  once  so  frivolous 
and  now  as  perfect  a  Christian  as  I  ever  knew !  " 

All  waited  on  her;  all  did  for  her;  there  was  a  kind  of 
rivalry  as  to  who  could  minister  most  to  her  needs.  Per 
haps  Jedediah  outdid  the  rest  in  kindness:  at  meal  time 
he  saw  that  her  plate  was  filled  first ;  when  Scripture  was 
read  he  found  the  page  for  her,  and  on  the  march  he 
often  hovered  near  offering  to  help,  where  his  presence 
perhaps  was  only  a  hindrance. 

Ruth  accepted  these  attentions  dumbly,  passively.  At 
evening  prayers  she  sometimes  sang  from  the  same  book 
with  him,  simply  because  he  offered  it  and  she  could  not 
refuse  without  giving  offense.  At  such  times  Mrs.  Jud 
son  would  nudge  the  Captain,  and  ,that  worthy  man 
would  smile  knowingly. 

"As  fine  a  young  woman  as  that  can't  live  alone  ; 
'taint  nature,"  said  the  Captain  one  day  to  the  Deacon. 


48  Time  and  Chance 

'  Yes,  I  s'pose  women  do  get  over  their  trouble  quick 
when  they  find  another  man,"  said  the  Deacon.  "  I  'd 
hardly  thought  it  though  of  that  'un — still  I  don't  blame 
her!" 

And  it  came  to  be  a  settled  thing — looked  on  as  a  mat 
ter  of  course — and  why  not  ? 

Here  is  a  fine  young  woman,  unmarried.  She  needs 
the  protection  that  only  a  husband  can  give.  And  here 
is  a  young  man  of  marriageable  age,  who  needs  a  help 
meet,  at  least  his  mother  says  so,  and  he  fully  agrees 
with  her.  He  will  soon  be  a  minister  and  should  have 
the  assistance  of  a  gentle,  yet  earnest,  Christian  wife.  No 
woman  better  looking  or  more  intelligent  can  be  found 
than  this  young  widow.  She  is  strong  and  can  work; 
she  is  diplomatic  and  can  serve;  she  has  a  dower  and  this 
is  no  objection;  and  best  of  all  she  is  alone,  with  no  pry 
ing  kinsmen  or  interfering  parents.  When  safely  married 
she  can  be  subdued  if  needs  be  (which  of  course  is  not 
likely  to  be  the  case). 

In  those  days  the  woman's  side  of  the  question  was  not 
considered,  as  it  is  now,  when  feminine  careers  are  open 
ing  up  for  women  outside  of  procreation  and  housework. 
The  advice  of  St.  Paul  was  never  doubted  :  If  a  woman 
would  have  knowledge,  let  her  ask  her  husband." 
Woman's  work  was  to  minister  to  man's  wants — no  one 
questioned  it — the  Bible  said  so.  Again,  in  a  pioneer 
country  people  marry  young — nature  demands  it — to  hold 
aloof  is  a  sin.  God  even  allowed  polygamy  among  pio 
neers.  How  about  Abraham  and  Isaac  ? 

Thought  is  in  the  air  and  women  absorb  it.  The  gos 
sip  of  the  camp  did  not  interest  Ruth — her  heart  was  far 
away  near  a  lonely  grave  on  a  wooded  hillside ;  strange 
misty  forms  arose  out  of  the  future  and  beckoned  her  on 
and  on.  At  times  she  seemed  to  be  moving  in  a  dream 


Man  Proposes,  but  Woman  Disposes         49 

and  expected  without  a  doubt  that  some  morning  she 
would  awake  and  find  Nathan  by  her  side,  and  together 
they  would  laugh  at  the  nightmare  of  the  past. 

But  it  came  over  her  one  day  that  a  coil  was  tightening 
around  her:  all  of  these  people  expected  she  would  do  a 
certain  thing;  even  children  were  discussing  it;  she  was 
drifting— moving  in  a  certain  direction,  and  if  she  did 
not  put  forth  a  strong  effort  soon  these  people  would 
have  their  way  exactly  as  they  had  done  once  before, 
when  she  arose  to  her  feet  and  professed  a  faith  that  was 
not  hers.  Only  this  time  when  she  stood  up  it  would  be 
by  the  side  of  a  man  and  her  lips  would  move  dumbly 
and  say  "  I  will,"  and  then  the  people  would  sing,  just  as 
they  did  before,  and  she  would  be  the  property  of  this 
man  to  be  used  as  his  will  or  whim  might  dictate. 

The  earnest  thought  of  several  people  brings  about  a 
certain  result — this  is  called  "  answer  to  prayer." 

It  would  come  as  sure  as  death — it  was  approaching — 
she  need  not  do  a  thing,  nor  lift  a  ringer — fate  was 
binding  her  fast — she  was  powerless  and  slowly  drift 
ing  to  sea.  And  this  all  because  she  desired  peace 
and  had  been  compliant  when  she  should  have  been 
rebellious. 

And  now  what  if  she  asserted  herself — would  they  all 
turn  against  her  ?  Very  well,  it  must  be  so. 

That  evening  Ruth  went  to  Mrs.  Brown,  who  she 
thought  would  be  most  likely  to  understand. 

Ruth  meant  to  talk  to  her  calmly,  to  unburden  her 
heart  by  degrees,  and  make  all  plain  by  word  of  mouth. 
She  began  to  speak,  but  a  lump  came  into  her  throat; 
she  tried  to  go  on — the  elder  woman's  mother-heart  was 
touched  — she  held  out  her  arms  and  the  motherless  girl 
fell  in  her  embrace  and  sobbed  away  her  grief  and  her 
fears  on  the  good  woman's  shoulder.  Mrs.  Brown  was 


50  Time  and  Chance 

a  wife  who  had  many  cares — there  was  much  work  to  do, 
heavy  burdens  to  bear,  and  little  time  for  sentiment  or 
demonstration. 

Ruth  did  not  have  to  talk  much :  it  was  not  necessary, 
the  other  understood. 

Peace  came  to  Ruth  that  night — pleasant  dreams  and 
visions  of  rest.  After  all,  does  it  not  really  take  two  to 
bear  a  burden  ? 

They  had  reached  the  shores  of  Lake  Erie.  Great 
was  the  excitement,  and  great  the  joy  when  that  vast 
stretch  of  water  was  seen.  All  were  filled  with  a  strange 
wonderment  and  a  heartfelt  gratitude  to  the  Providence 
that  had  thus  brought  them  out  of  the  wilderness.  The 
wagon-train  halted. 

For  nearly  three  months   they  had    journeyed,  jour 
neyed  through  unending  woods,  but  now  their  eyes  could 
look  straight  out  in  front  for  five,  ten,  yes,  twenty  miles. 
'  Is  it  the  Western  Reserve,  Ruth  ?  "  asked  John. 

:<  No,  little  boy,  it  is  Lake  Erie." 

"  It  looks  like  the  sky  turned  upside  down.  Is  the 
Western  Reserve  like  that  ?  " 

'  Just  as  serene  as  that !  "  said  a  voice  at  the  cart 
wheel.  Ruth  started  a  little.  It  was  Jedediah  who 
spoke — he  was  chewing  a  stick — one  foot  was  on  the 
felloe. 

"  Just  as  serene  as  that,  if  me  and  you  are  together, 
Ruth,  eh!  " 

Ruth  colored  and  turned  her  head  to  avoid  his  leer. 

"  Of  course  you  blush,  little  widow,  it  's  becoming; 
but  I  have  prayed  that  our  future  will  be  as  smooth  as 
the  lake,  and  a  Voice  says  it  shall  be  so.  We  will  reach 
the  town  of  Erie  to-morrow,  Ruth — did  you  know  that?" 

"  No,  to-morrow  ?  " — she  clutched  at  it,  it  seemed  a 
change  of  subject. 


Man  Proposes,  but  Woman  Disposes         51 

'  Yes,  to-morrow;  there  is  someone  there  I  know." 

"  Is  there,  who  is  it  ?  " 

"  A  minister!  " 

"  Indeed!" 

"  Yes,  shall  we  call  on  him,  me  and  you — why  not  ?  " 

"  No,  I  think  we  will  not  call  on  him." 

"  We  might  as  well — now  's  the  time — you  '11  never  get 
'nother  man  like  me.     I  'in  goin'  to  be  ordained  soon." 
Jed  Judson,  you  let  that  girl  alone,  will  you!  " 

Mrs.  Brown  had  approached  the  cart  from  the  other 
side  and  had  caught  Jedediah's  last  remark.  She  walked 
around  and  standing  close  to  him  turned  her  sun-bonnet 
defiantly  towards  his  face : 

"  Go  long  with  you  now  and  don't  you  bother  a  lone 
woman." 

'  Why,  what  's  the  fuss,  Sister  Brown — was  you  afraid 
you  would  n't  get  an  invite  to  the  weddin'  ?  " 
'  Who  says  there  's  going*  to  be  a  wedding  ? " 
'  Why,  the  widow  will  say  so  if  you  wait  a  minute." 

Ruth  turned  a  supplicating  look  at  Mrs.  Brown,  and 
spoke : 

"  He  means  well,  Mrs.  Brown,  Jedediah  means  well, 
but  it  can  never  be — make  him  understand  once  for  all 
that  I  am  his  friend,  but  can  never,  never,  never  be  his 
wife  !  " 

"Now,  will  you  quit  pesterin'  her?"  asked  Mrs. 
Brown. 

And  why  won't  she  marry  me?"  whined  Jedediah  ? 
"  I  like  her  and  she  says  she  likes  me — you  heard  that 
with  your  own  ears." 

"  Fool!  "  Mrs.  Brown  took  the  youth  by  the  elbow 
and  led  him  away  three  steps.  Then  she  whispered 
something  to  him.  He  smiled  and  whistled  a  long,  low 
whistle  of  astonishment. 


52  Time  and  Chance 

'  Jeeminee!  but  I  don't  care  for  that — I  won't  mind  if 
she  won't!  " 

'  Jed  Judson,  are  you  crazy  ?  " 

'  Well,  if  that  's  all  that  's  in  the  way,  let  her  say  the 
word." 

'  You  are  a  fool." 

Mrs.  Brown's  stout  form  was  shaking  with  womanly 
indignation.  She  led  the  young  man  straight  across  to 
where  his  mother  sat  on  a  log  nursing  her  baby. 

"  Charity  Judson,  you  make  this  boy  quit  botherin' 
Ruth  Halsted ;  if  he  says  anything  more  'bout  marryin' 
of  her,  and  you  don't  box  his  ears,  I  will!  ! " 


CHAPTER    XII 

PIONEER   DAYS   AND   A   NIGHT   ALONE   IN   THE   WOODS 

IN  1796,  the  first  pilgrims  from  New  England  landed  at 
Conneaut,  Ohio;  they  called  the  place  New  Ply 
mouth.  But  the  name  slipped  them,  for  commerce  is 
stronger  than  pride  of  ancestry ;  and  the  name  that  the 
French  traders  gave  the  post  crowded  the  other  out,  like 
a  cuckoo  in  the  nest  of  a  thrush. 

When  our  wagon-train  reached  Conneaut — only  a  few 
miles  beyond  the  Pennsylvania  line — there  was  great  re 
joicing.  There  were  prayers  of  thanksgiving  and  songs 
of  praise ;  and  then  there  was  feasting. 

Poverty  in  the  city  is  horror;  but  poverty  in  the  coun 
try  is  only  a  disadvantage — and  not  always  that.  These 
people  had  little  money;  they  were  poor,  but  they  were 
not  poverty-stricken.  They  had  an  abundance  to  eat, 
raiment  to  keep  them  warm,  and  fuel  for  a  hundred 
years.  They  had  health  and  hope  and  faith. 


Pioneer  Days  53 

After  a  few  days  of  rest  at  Conneaut  they  were  joined 
by  several  other  families,  and  together  they  pushed  on 
through  the  forest  for  a  two  days'  journey  to  the  south. 
At  Conneaut  they  had  met  a  worthy  man  by  the  name 
of  David  Hudson,  and  he  led  the  caravan  to  a  clearing 
in  the  woods  where  he  had  built  a  house. 

Then  they  camped — there  on  the  banks  of  a  stream  in 
the  primeval  woods — and  the  long,  long  march  was  at  an 
end. 

Northern  Ohio  was  very  beautiful  in  those  days — 
beautiful  in  its  wild,  untamed  diversity.  Rock  and  hill, 
forest  and  stream,  wooded  slope  and  clearing;  and  then 
the  rich  bottom-lands  where  Nature  seemed  to  make  her 
tryst,  waiting  for  the  pioneer — all  this  was  New  England, 
with  New  England's  blessings  multiplied  by  two  and  her 
disadvantages  divided  in  half. 

There  were  miles  on  miles  of  waving  forests,  tunnels 
of  endless  trees:  oak,  beach,  elm,  chestnut,  and  now  and 
again  great  pines  that  lifted  their  evergreen  heads  high 
over  all,  as  if  jealous  of  the  sun's  rays.  These  brooding 
forests  were  dim  even  at  midday,  dusky  in  the  evening, 
fragrant,  sweet,  dewy. 

The  cool  streams  were  stocked  with  gamy,  hungry 
fish ;  beneath  the  ferns  and  in  the  canebrakes  were 
sounds  of  stirring  game,  mark  of  hoofs  at  the  deerlicks, 
plantigrade  tracks  about  rocky  caves,  little  clearings 
where  wild  turkeys  strutted  and  called ;  and  from  the 
afterglow  of  sunset  until  daydawn  might  be  heard  the 
screech  of  panther,  the  howl  of  wolf  and  the  wild,  mys 
terious  call  of  night  birds  echoing  across  the  solemn  dark. 
And  now  all  day  long  the  ring  of  the  ax  could  be  heard; 
and  the  smoke  ascended  from  a  hundred  sacrificial  fires: 
the  forest  was  being  subdued. 

The   women    and  children    burned    brush  and    trees; 


54  Time  and  Chance 

certain  other  women  looked  after  the  babies;  others  pre 
pared  food ;  the  men  hewed  logs  into  shape  and  erected 
a  meeting  house — a  house  for  the  worship  of  God. 

In  a  week  they  were  putting  on  the  roof.  A  solemn 
service  was  held. 

There  was  a  dirt  floor  to  this  church,  and  the  windows 
were  only  sliding  shutters,  and  the  pulpit  was  very  rude, 
and  the  pews  slabs  of  wood ;  but  this  church  was  dedi 
cated  and  the  people  were  very  happy. 

While  log  houses  were  being  built  the  people  moved 
into  the  church,  dividing  it  off  into  rooms  by  deer-skins 
or  cloth  suspended  from  poles. 

The  name  of  Froebel  was  not  known  to  these  people, 
and  the  word  "  creche  "  had  not  yet  been  imported,  but 
still  the  kindergarten  and  the  day  nursery  were  estab 
lished  by  Ruth.  For  a  primitive  civilization  is  like  the 
highest  in  this :  that  which  is  needed  is  evolved ;  in  one 
case  by  necessity,  in  the  other  by  science. 

Ruth's  presence  in  that  primitive  settlement  was  a 
benison :  her  tact,  her  gentleness,  her  patience,  and  her 
common  sense  did  for  the  children  what  the  mothers 
could  not;  her  endowments  set  her  apart  as  a  teacher  of 
the  young,  and  all  respected  her  office. 

When  the  sun  set  the  example,  children  went  to  bed, 
and  as  the  darkness  gathered,  "  the  grown-ups"  did  like 
wise.  But  first  the  fond  mothers  would  take  inventory 
of  their  broods  as  they  lay  sleeping  in  rows,  in  all  the 
positions  of  abandon  that  tired  nature  suggests. 

One  night,  as  usual,  Mrs.  Brown  looked  after  her  little 
flock  before  going,  herself,  to  rest.  She  checked  them 
all  off  on  her  fingers  and  then  she  did  it  again,  for  one 
was  missing. 

Little  John  could  not  be  found. 

The  mother  called  his  name  aloud,  but  the  only  answer 


Pioneer  Days  55 

was  the  echo  of  her  anxious  cry.  The  alarm  was  given : 
men  took  up  the  call;  they  ran  hither  and  thither  with 
torches;  they  followed  the  bed  of  the  stream  for  miles 
and  the  roadway  where  a  path  was  blazed  through  the 
forest.  And  still  they  shouted  aloud,  but  there  came 
back  only  the  sad  echo  and  muffled  noises  of  the  night. 

When  daylight  came  it  brought  night  to  the  stricken 
mother.  The  searchers  returned  from  their  fruitless 
hunt.  Then  they  started  out  again — men,  women  and 
children — walking  straight  out  into  the  forest  ten  feet 
apart.  They  stretched  out  in  a  line  a  full  quarter  of  a 
mile  wide.  Only  Ruth  remained  at  the  village  to  take 
care  of  those  too  young  to  tramp. 

Her  eyes  were  red  with  weeping,  her  head  ached  from 
the  sleepless  vigil,  her  heart  was  heavy  with  its  sorrow ; 
for  some  secret  mysterious  bond  had  bound  her  own  fate 
up  with  that  of  the  strange  child  who  had  gone  off  into 
the  void  of  the  unknown.  She  went  drearily  about  her 
work  and  her  inward  eye  saw  only  a  tattered,  tangled 
pile  of  child-clothes,  that  the  searchers  would  find  and 
bring  sorrowfully  home ;  for  at  night  the  forest  was  full 
of  ravenous  wolves  and  prowling  bears. 

A  little  shadow  came  into  the  doorway  and  a  little 
voice  piped : 

He  's  gone,  Ruth — I  want  to  die!  " 

Ruth  thought  it  was  a  spirit  and  she  answered : 

11  So  do  I!" 

But  she  looked  and  there  was  little  John  Brown,  very 
wet  with  dew,  and  eyes  as  red  as  hers  from  much  weep 
ing.  In  an  instant  he  was  held  close  to  her  heart,  and 
both  cried,  and  although  five  babies  joined  in  the  chorus 
Ruth  heard  them  not. 

Finally  John  squirmed  his  head  loose  from  Ruth's  em 
brace,  as  they  sat  there  on  the  door  sill : 


56  Time  and  Chance 

"  Where  are  all  the  folks,  Ruth  ?  " 

'  Looking  for  you,  little  boy." 

'  Will  mother  whip  me  very  hard,  do  you  s'pose  ? " 
'  No,  dear  child,  she  will  be  only  glad  that  you  are 
safe." 

"  I  don't  care  even  if  father  switches  me — and  he  do 
switch  awful — I  want  to  die,  I  do." 

"  Why,  John  ?" 

"  Bob  's  gone!  " 

A  fresh  burst  of  weeping  here  followed,  and  Ruth  be 
thought  herself  of  the  agreed  signal.  She  rested  the  long 
gun  across  a  log  and  shut  her  eyes  (for  she  was  a  woman), 
then  pulled  the  trigger  with  a  jerk.  There  was  a  loud 
report.  Then  she  quickly  poured  in  powder,  rammed 
home  a  wad  made  from  a  hornet's  nest,  primed  the  flint, 
and  fired  again,  then  once  more. 

"  I  was  going  to  starve  myself  to  death  so  I  would  die 
myself  dead,  but  I  guess  I  'd  eat  a  bite  if  I  could  git  it," 
said  little  John  as  he  leaned  his  head  sadly  on  the  door 
jamb. 

Ruth  started  to  get  the  boy  something  to  eat,  but  she 
heard  a  shout  from  the  forest  and  soon  another  from  the 
edge  of  the  clearing.  She  ran  to  the  door  and  waved  an 
apron.  Soon  the  whole  village  came  trooping  in  pell-mell. 

"  Land  a  livin' — where  was  he  at  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Judson. 

"  Did  n't  the  bears  eat  him  ?  "  called  another. 

"  Was  he  dead  and  come  to  life  ?  "  asked  a  little  girl. 

"  He  oughter  be  well  cuffed  for  makin'  us  such  a 
scare,"  added  Mrs.  Judson. 

"  That  's  right,  a  good  taste  of  the  birch  is  what  he 
needs,"  said  the  Rev.  Jedediah. 

'  I  'm  sorry,  John,  that  you  should  have  been  so  per 
verse  as  to  go  away  without  telling  us  first,"  solemnly 
said  the  Deacon. 


Pioneer  Days  57 

And  as  all  crowded  around  and  asked  questions,  Ruth 
held  the  boy  on  her  knee  and  his  mother  fed  him  bread 
and  milk  from  a  wooden  bowl. 

When  hunger  was  partially  satisfied,  the  child  took  time 
to  say  between  two  spoonfuls: 

He  's  gone — the  Lord  took  him." 
Is   the   child  crazy — what  do  he   mean  ?"  asked  a 
woman. 

"  Bob  's  gone  and  I  have  nothin'  to  live  for!  " 
"  Oh,  you  mean  the  squirrel  ?  " 
"  Yes." 

"  I  'm  glad,  he  was  a  nuisance." 
"  No  he  was  n't." 
Well,  where  were  you  ?  " 

Bob  run  off  and  I  followed  him  a  hundred  miles  in 
the  woods — he  run  up  a  holler  tree,  and  I  waited  for  him 
to  come  down.  He  did  n't  come  down — I  waited  all 
night  in  the  holler  of  the  tree.  He  's  gone  up  in  the  sky 
to  where  Nathan  is!  " 

He  surely  needs  the  birch,"  mused  Jedediah. 
But  did  n't  you  hear  us  call  ?  "  asked  his  father. 
"  Of  course  I  heard  you,  but  I  must  do  my  duty — I 
waited  in  the  holler  of  the  tree  for  Bob  to  come!  " 

Such  willfulness!  the  sprout  is  what  he  needs,"  re 
sumed  Jedediah. 

'  The  Elder  is  right!  "  said  several  women  in  concert. 
Others  nodded  their  sun-bonnets  in  approval. 

I  think  you  folks  had  better  pike  off  and  do  your 
work,  that  's  what  I  think,"  said  Mrs.  Brown;  "  when  I 
can't  look  after  my  own  children,  I  '11  send  for  you  to 
give  advice,"  and  she  shooed  them  away  with  her  apron. 
Little  John  turned  and  put  his  arms  around  Ruth's 
neck:  "  God  don't  'flict  everybody  as  much  as  He  does 
we,  does  He,  Ruth  ?  " 


58  Time  and  Chance 

"  No,  dear  little  boy,  but  those  whom  He  loveth,  He 
chasteneth." 

"  Why  does  He  do  it!" 

"  So  as  to  make  them  better — prepare  them  for  a  great 
work,  the  Bible  says." 

"  And  do  you  think  I  will  do  a  great  work  some 
day  ? " 

"  I  have  never  doubted  it,  John." 

Then  I  guess  I  won't  die  just  yet  a  while!  " 
******* 

Three  months  after  this  a  baby  was  born  to  Ruth 
Crosby — a  girl  baby.  They  called  her  Rachel. 

In  a  very  few  days  Ruth  was  propped  up  in  one  of  the 
big  hickory  chairs  on  the  sunny  side  of  the  log  house. 
Little  John  stood  near,  very  happy  and  very  proud  of 
the  new  arrival. 

"  Ruth!"  said  John. 
'  Yes,  little  boy." 

"  I  know  why  God  did  not  let  the  bears  and  wolves 
eat  me  that  night!  " 

"  Why,  John  ?" 

"  He  saved  me  so  I  could  take  care  of  you  and 
Rachel." 

"  I  think  so,  John." 

"  So  I  could  take  care  of  you,  so  you  could  both  help 
me  do  my  work." 

"  Lordy !  "  exclaimed  Sis,  who  stood  near.  She  made 
a  quick  jerk  as  if  brushing  her  hair  from  her  eyes. 
"  Lordy!  but  when  that  boy  talks  like  that,  it  do  give 
me  the  shivers  up  my  back!  " 


Ruth  Crosby 


BOOK  TWO 


59 


CHAPTER   I 

A   CATTLE   SALE   AT   ZANESVILLE 

IN  1812  the  capital  of  Ohio  was  at  Zanesville.  It  was 
then  removed  to  Chillicothe,  but  Zanesville  remained 
a  place  of  much  importance.  There  was  considerable 
society  thereabouts,  and  for  many  miles  in  every  direc 
tion  it  was  considered  the  intellectual  center:  for  no 
matter  how  crude  or  rude  a  people  is,  there  are  certain 
self-appointed  "  hubs  "  whence  culture  is  supposed  to 
radiate. 

The  highest  court  of  the  West  sat  at  Zanesville; 
much  of  the  Government  machinery  was  located  there; 
the  military  made  it  their  chief  rendezvous.  And 
where  these  things  are  gathered  together,  there  is  al 
ways  a  large  demand  for  tobacco,  whiskey,  and  paste 
board. 

The  uncertain  tenure  of  office  and  the  speculative  spirit 
of  Government  contracts  breed  a  fever  in  the  blood  that 
makes  gambling  a  necessity,  and  then  come  late  hours 
and  stimulants  as  a  matter  of  course. 

Zanesville  was  very  gay. 

There  were  market  days  each  month  when  farmers 
gathered  for  hundreds  of  miles.  They  brought  sheep 
and  cattle  and  horses  to  sell,  if  they  were  very  rich ;  or 
if  not  so  prosperous  they  brought  only  beans,  corn,  and 
wheat ;  then  others  who  ranged  the  forests  for  bee  trees 
brought  honey,  sarsaparilla,  sassafras,  and  ginger  root; 

61 


62  Time  and  Chance 

and  there  were  Indians  who  brought  skins — muskrats, 
coon,  beaver,  and  deer. 

When  court  was  in  session  these  monthly  markets  were 
busy  places — for  country  people  have  ever  a  thirst  for  liti 
gation — they  buzz  about  an  assize  like  moths  around  a 
candle. 

In  the  square  at  Zanesville  were  rows  of  pens  made 
from  rails  piled  on  each  other  after  the  manner  of  a 
"  worm  fence."  Perched  on  the  top  rail  of  one  of  these 
pens  sat  a  long,  slim  youth  of  perhaps  fifteen  years. 
Back  and  forth  ranged  the  buyers  and  sightseers.  They 
joked  and  laughed  and  priced  this  and  that,  and  made 
offers.  No  one  seemed  in  a  hurry — the  market  con 
tinued  until  things  were  sold — buy  now  or  the  next  day 
or  not  at  all. 

"  And  have  n't  you  sold  your  cattle  yet,  youngster  ? " 

"  I  sold  two,  sir." 

The  questioner  was  a  large  man — good-natured — evi 
dently  well  pleased  with  himself,  and  prosperous.  His 
hair  was  red,  eyes  blue,  and  face  slightly  freckled.  He 
wore  a  wide  felt  hat  on  the  back  of  his  head,  top-boots 
into  which  his  trousers  were  tucked,  a  flannel  shirt,  and 
as  he  talked  he  snapped  a  black-snake  whip  that  he  car 
ried  in  his  hand.  He  knew  everyone  and  everyone 
seemed  to  know  him.  The  boy  on  the  rail  was  evidently 
a  close  observer :  he  had  noticed  this  man  go  by  several 
times,  and  he  had  seen  that  people  in  meeting  him  jerked 
the  forefinger  of  their  right  hands  to  their  hat  brims  and 
addressed  him  as  "  Kuhnel. " 

The  boy  had  tried  this  "  Kuhnel  "  at  the  bar  of  his 
judgment  as  he  sat  there  blinking  in  the  sunshine,  and 
the  verdict  was  that  the  Colonel  was  not  a  worthy  man. 

Yet  when  the  great  Colonel  to  whom  people  jerked 
their  forefingers  to  their  hat  brims,  snapped  his  black- 


A  Cattle  Sale  at  Zanesville  63 

snake  whip,  spat,  and  addressed  the  boy,  the  lad  was 
pleased.  The  Colonel  had  come  to  the  boy,  not  the  boy 
to  the  Colonel.  And  the  Colonel  had  looked  up  to  him, 
too,  for  he  sat  clear  on  the  top  rail. 

"  Sold  two,  eh!  well,  where  's  your  pap  ?     I  reckon 
I  '11  buy  the  rest  if  the  price  is  right." 
'  You  mean  my  father — he  's  at  home." 
'T  aint  you  that  's  sellin'  the  cattle  ? " 
'  Yes,  I  'm  selling  the  cattle." 
"  Where  did  you  steal  'em  ?  " 
"  I  did  not  steal  them.     I  brought  them  here  to  sell." 

Pap  sent  you  ?  " 
"  Yes." 

"  What  's  your  name  ?  " 
Brown." 

Holy  smokes! — you  might  as  well  have  no  name  't 
all — if    I  'd    shout    Brown    right   here,  good    and    loud, 
twenty  men  would  come  on  the  run." 
"  My  first  name  's  John." 

Worser  and  worser. " 
'  We  live  at  Hudson." 

Oho — now  I  see!  yer  dad  aint  Squire  Owen  ?  " 
'  Yes,  that  's  what  they  call  him — his  name  's  Owen 
Brown." 

'  Well,  your  name  's  Timothy  Buckskin — now  Tim 
othy,  how  much  for  the  lot  ?  " 

The  three  two-year-olds  are  twenty-two  dollars 
apiece,  the  ox  is  twenty-seven  dollars,  and  the  old  cow  is 
nineteen  dollars." 

'  Jeminy  cats,  but  you  are  percise;  how  much  will  you 
knock  off  if  I  take  the  lot  ? " 
"  Nothing!  " 

"  And  s'pose  you  don't  sell  "em." 
"  I  '11  drive  them  home." 


64  Time  and  Chance 

"  Did  you  fetch  'em  ?" 
"  Yes." 

"  Alone  ?" 

11  Yes." 

"  A  hundred  miles  ?  " 

"  Yes." 
'  Well,  you  air  smart!  " 

;'  It  will  not  be  necessary  for  me  to  take  the  cattle 
back;  someone  will  buy  "em." 

"  Did  your  dad  put  the  prices  on  'em  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

'  Well,  I  '11  take  'em,  drive  'em  over  to  Silverside  on 
the  hill,  and  I  '11  pay  you  when  you  come  back." 
'  You  pay  me  now  and  I  '11  drive  them  over." 

"  Look  here,  Major,"  the  man  called  to  another  who 
was  passing,  "  this  young  Yank  won't  put  these  cattle 
in  my  pen  'til  I  pay  him !  " 

The  men  laughed  loud  and  uproariously,  they  pounded 
each  other  on  the  back,  and  then  got  the  boy  to  repeat  his 
refusal  to  let  the  cattle  go  until  he  had  been  paid.  Again 
they  roared  and  several  men  standing  about  shouted : 

"  It  's  one  on  you,  Kuhnel — it  's  one  on  you!  " 

The  boy  looked  on  with  face  unmoved;  he  returned 
their  look  with  a  steadiness  of  gaze  that  quite  put  several 
of  the  crowd  out  of  countenance.  There  he  sat,  all 
clothed  in  buckskin;  he  wore  a  coonskin  cap  with  a 
dangling  tail,  heavy  shoes  but  no  stockings.  His  com 
plexion  was  the  color  of  his  clothes,  and  the  dust  on  his 
shoes  was  the  tint  of  both. 

The  Colonel  got  over  his  mirth,  and  drew  forth  a 
weasel-skin  money  bag.  He  counted  out  the  money  and 
handed  it  up  to  the  lad.  The  boy  counted  it,  distrib 
uted  it  carefully  through  several  pockets  and  slid  off  the 
fence.  He  quickly  took  rail  off  rail,  of  the  improvised 


John  Brown  Finds  Friends  and  Foes         65 

pen,  and  leading  out  the  ox  the  rest  of  the  cattle  fol 
lowed  after. 

"  Go  with  him,  Slivers,"  called  the  Colonel  to  a  negro 
boy  who  stood  near  "  Show  him  where  to  put  'em.  Oh, 
you,  Smith,  Timothy,  Yank,  what  's  your  name  ?  I 
say,  you  wait  there  at  the  house  and  git  your  dinner!  " 


CHAPTER    II 

JOHN   BROWN   FINDS   FRIENDS   AND   FOES 

JOHN  and  Slivers  were  friends  from  the  first.     They 
were  evidently  about  the  same  age. 
Slivers  was  a  curiosity  to  John  and  John  was  a  curi 
osity  to  Slivers.     Slivers  was  that  curious  thing,  "  a  red 
head  nigger."     His  wool  was  a  rusty  red,  the  color  of 
iron  in  the  ore,  or  of  the  breed  of  pigs  known  as  "  Jersey 
Reds."     His  eyes   were   light   blue   and   his    face   was 
freckled  as  a  turkey's  egg. 

The  cattle  were  safely  yarded  and  Slivers  had  walked 
around  the  tall  boy  twice.  He  examined  the  fringe  on 
the  buckskin  jacket  and  stroked  the  dangling  tail  of  the 
coonskin  cap. 

'  You  could  n't  feel  it  if  you  was  whipped  through  that 
jacket,"  said  Slivers. 

See  here,"  said  John,  "  Injuns  made  'em,  you  can 
have  one!  " 

Two  yellow  marbles  were  produced  and  the  mulatto 
boy  laughed  with  delight. 

Are  they  good  to  eat  ?  "  asked  Slivers. 
No,  you  roll  'em,  this  way." 
Slivers  chuckled. 

I  'm  'fraid  of  Injuns,   I  am.     They  are   decent  in 


66  Time  and  Chance 

town,   but   a  mile  out  they  catch  folks  and   suck  their 
blood." 

'  Who  says  so  ?  " 
"  The  Missus." 

Huh,  I  guess  that  's  a  mistake.     They  never  hurt 
me — I  know  'em  well — I  talk  Injun! 
'  Was  your  daddy  an  Injun  ?  " 

"  My    father!    why,    my   father  is   Squire   Brown  —  a 
Deacon!     What  made  you  ask  if  he  was  an  Injun  ?  " 
'  You  have  fringe  on  your  jacket." 
'  That  's  nothing." 

'  When  my  daddy  was  a  white  man — why  could  n't 
yours  be  an  Injun  ?  " 
'  Who  is  your  father  ?  " 
"  Mine  ?" 
"  Yes." 

'  Will  you  never  tell  ?  " 
"  Never!  " 
"  S'  welp  you  ? " 
"  Yes." 

"  Cross  your  heart,  an'  hope  to  never  ?  " 
"  Yes." 

The   freckled    boy  looked  carefully  on  all  sides,  and 
putting  his  face  close  to  the  other's  ear  whispered : 
"  Marse!  " 
"  Who  ?" 

Marse  Silverton." 

'  You  mean  the  man  who  bought  my  cattle  ?  " 
"  Of  course — why  not  ?     I  'm  a  Silverton;  some  calls 
it  Sliverton,  and  we  is  all  Slivers.     Thar  's  Big  Slivers, 
Little  Slivers,   Old  Slivers,  Tom  Slivers,  Jim  Slivers — 
and  that  's  me,  although  Marse  often  calls  me  just  plain 
Slivers.     We  all  has  red  hair  and  blue  eyes." 
"  Gracious!  then  Mrs.  Silverton  is  black  ?" 


John  Brown  Finds  Friends  and  Foes         67 

"  Not  very — ha,  ha,  ha,  ha,  ha!  " 

The  laugh  ended  very  abruptly.  Slivers  fell  over  back 
ward  from  where  he  was  sitting  and  crawled  behind  a 
gooseberry  bush. 

John  looked  around  to  see  the  sudden  cause  of  fright, 
but  he  saw  only  a  tall,  slender  woman.    She  wore  a  blue 
dress,  a  white  shawl,  and  she  walked  very  slowly  as  if  ill ; 
her  face  was  pale.     She  took  a  seat  on  the  veranda  that 
ran  clear  around  the  large,  low-roofed,  two-story  house. 
"  Is  she  gone  ?  "  whispered  Slivers. 
"  Who,  the  lady  ?" 
"  Yeh." 

No,  she  is  on  the  porch,  who  is  she  ?  " 
"  That  ?    that  's  the  Missus." 
'  Why  do  you  lie  so — that  is  not  your  mother  ? " 
John  had  never  seen  a  real  live  lady ;  he  had  heard  of 
them  just  as  we  hear  of  angels,  and  as  we  would  recog 
nize  an  angel  at  once  should  we  meet  one,  so  did  this 
boy  recognize  the  lady.     Ladies  were  pale  and  delicate, 
they  wore  blue  dresses  and  were  very  beautiful.     This 
was  a  lady  and  this  negro  boy  was  taking  her  name  in 
vain. 

"  It  's  better  to  tell  the  truth  and  not  be  so  frivolous." 
Hold  on,  Injun — I  did  n't  say  Missus  was  my  mother 
— my  mammy  was  black." 

Very  likely,  where  is  she  now  ? " 
"  Sold!" 

So  you  are  a  slave  ?  " 

No,  I  haint — I  just  b'long  to  Marse  Silverton." 
But  he  can  sell  you,  too? " 
I  s'pose  so,  if  I  don't  behave." 
"  Are  you  sure  he  's  your  father  ?  " 
Are  you  sure  'bout  yourn  ?  " 
We  are  talking  about  you." 


68  Time  and  Chance 

'  Well,  I  says  to  Marse  once  when  he  was  feelin'  good : 
4  You  says  I  's  cute  —  I  reckon  if  I  is,  it  's  cause  you  're 
my  daddy!'  ' 

'  What  did  he  say  ?  " 

"  Did  n't  say  nothin',  just  slammed  a  plate  at  my  head 
— if  it  had  hit  me  I  would  n't  be  layin'  here  talkin'  to 
you.  Next  day  he  says  if  I  ever  tole  anything  like  that 
agin,  he  'd  send  me  straight  to  the  cotton  fields." 

4  We  don't  have  any  slaves  where  I  come  from." 

'  Where  you  live  ?  " 

'  Hudson — in  the  Western  Reserve." 

'  Everybody  free  ?  " 
"  Yes." 

"  Golly,  I  'd  like  to  live  there — nobody  does  any 
work!  " 

"  Of  course  they  work." 

;<  But  not  if  they  don't  want  ?  " 
No,  they  can  be  idle  if  they  prefer." 

'  If  I  lived  there  would  I  be  free  ?  " 
44  Certainly!  " 

'  Well,  I  reckon  I  '11  go,"  said  Slivers  with  a  chuckle. 
Slivers  had  no  idea  of  going,  but  unwittingly  the  white 
boy  had  sown  dragons'  teeth,  which  when  the  time  was 
ripe  were  to  spring  up  into  armed  men. 

John  was  sitting  on  the  ground,  his  back  against  the 
fence.  Involuntarily  he  stood  up;  the  lady  on  the  ver 
anda  was  looking  at  him.  She  beckoned  him  to  come  to 
her.  He  did  so  and  removed  his  cap  as  he  approached. 
The  lady  motioned  him  to  a  seat  and  said:  "  Are  you 
the  boy  that  led  the  cattle  by  a  little  while  ago  ?  " 

'  Yes,  ma'am." 

'  He  came  a   hundred   miles  alone,"    called  Colonel 
Silverton,  who  rode  up  just  then  on  horseback. 
44  Indeed!  " 


John  Brown  Finds  Friends  and  Foes         69 

'  Yes,  I  knew  you  would  like  to  see  him — he  's  going 
to  stay  to  dinner;  here,  Slivers!  " 

Slivers  was  making  busy  pretense  of  pulling  weeds  for 
a  lot  of  pigs  that  stood  with  their  front  feet  on  top  of  a 
pen,  squealing  loudly. 

Slivers  came  forward  and  took  the  horse. 

"  Yes,  Belle,  a  hundred  miles  and  only  fifteen  years 
old." 

"  Fifteen — going  on  sixteen,"  corrected  John,  without 
a  smile. 

"  Why,  neither  George  nor  James  could  do  that— I 
would  n't  trust  'em  with  a  sheep!  You  are  always  so 
interested  in  queer  specimens — I  knew  you  would  like 
him." 

"  Is  he  French,  Canadian,  or  Pennsylvania  Dutch  ?" 
asked  the  lady. 

"Dutch!  ha,  ha!  —  he's  a  Yank  —  a  full-blooded 
Yank." 

"  Maurice,  you  should  not  speak  so  before  him,  it  may 
hurt  his  feelings." 

"  I  'm  not  ashamed  of  being  a  Yankee,"  said  the  boy, 
with  a  quiet  show  of  pride. 

"  Listen  to  that!     Ha,  ha,  ha!  "  laughed  the  Colonel. 

"  My  ancestors  came  over  in  the  Mayflower,  I  'm  a 
descendant  of  Philip  Brown,"  continued  the  boy. 

The  Colonel  tried  to  laugh  again,  but  the  mirth  was 
hardly  a  success. 

"  What  is  his  name  ?  "  asked  the  lady  of  her  husband. 

"  Smith,  John  Smith." 

Brown,"  corrected  the  boy. 

Margaret,  my  dear,  come  here,  please." 

A  young  girl  came  out — a  sort  of  second  edition  of  her 
mother — only  with  a  bloom  of  health  on  her  cheeks. 
She  wore  a  blue  dress,  too,  and  John's  quick  glance  told 


70  Time  and  Chance 

him  that  she  was  a  lady  also — the  second  he  had  ever 
seen. 

"Margaret,  this  is  John  Brown;  he  has  brought 
cattle  to  your  father  a  hundred  miles,  all  alone." 

'  How  do  you  do,  John  Brown  ?     I  hope  you  are  well 
— but  you  must  be  very  tired  after  so  long  a  march." 

John  tried  to  speak ;  he  had  never  in  his  life  calculated 
his  words  ;  this  time  he  wished  he  had.  He  answered  : 

"  Our  folks  are  well,  thank  you — how  are  your  folks  ?  " 

He  felt  his  face  burning  and  for  the  first  time  in  his  life 
he  was  embarrassed.  He  had  never  yet  quailed  before 
the  glance  of  man,  woman  or  beast ;  like  the  Indians  with 
whom  he  had  associated,  he  had  the  dignity  and  the  grace 
of  a  nude  statue. 

But  now,  like  Adam  and  Eve  in  the  presence  of  God, 
he  was  ashamed.  He  would  have  run  away  if  he  dared ; 
he  tried  to  speak  again,  to  apologize  and  go,  but  he  only 
sat,  and  the  impassive  yellow  of  his  long  face,  with  its 
peaked  chin  and  curved  nose,  burned  scarlet. 

He  was  a  man. 

The  father,  mother  and  daughter  were  discussing  the 
boy — he  dared  not  look  up. 

But  they  all  came  from  England,"  he  heard  the 
young  girl  say;  "  some  landed  at  Plymouth  and  some  at 
Jamestown." 

'  Yes,  but  one  class  belonged  to  the  nobility  and  the 
other  was  the  dregs  of  creation." 

"  Oh,  that  is  too  strong,  Papa — you  forget  Oliver 
Cromwell." 

"  My,  but  the  girl  is  getting  along  in  her  history." 

The  bell  rang  for  dinner,  to  the  great  relief  of  John 
Brown.  The  dinner  was  the  most  stately,  courtly  and 
uncomfortable  affair  that  he  had  ever  known. 

Colonel  Silverton  sat  at  one  end  of  the  large  table,  his 


John  Brown  Finds  Friends  and  Foes         71 

wife  at  the  other.  On  one  side  sat  John  and  Miss  Mar 
garet;  on  the  other,  two  big  slouching  boys  who  were 
introduced  as  George  and  James.  They  stared  at  John, 
whispered  together  and  then  fell  a-laughing. 

No  grace  was  said.  Behind  the  master  of  the  house 
stood  Slivers  with  a  big  tray  ready  to  carry  each  plate  to 
the  proper  person  when  it  was  filled.  And  considering 
the  size  of  the  table,  John  thought  this  was  quite  a 
necessary  proceeding.  Margaret  was  evidently  a  year  or 
two  older  than  John,  but  she  appeared  to  him  like  a  full- 
grown  woman,  and  he  noticed  with  inward  discomfort 
that  she  treated  him  as  though  he  were  a  little  boy. 
George  had  a  downy  mustache  and  was  evidently  near 
twenty.  James  was  about  eighteen. 

John  could  not  eat  much,  neither  could  he  talk;  his 
pride  of  birth  was  gone,  and  the  trip  through  from  Hud 
son  alone  had  dwindled  into  nothingness  —  he  only 
wanted  to  get  away  into  the  woods  alone. 

Slivers  stood,  too  solemn  by  half,  behind  his  master's 
chair.  He  watched  his  chance,  held  up  the  marble  that 
John  had  given  him,  and  winked.  But  John  could  not 
smile  back. 

As  soon  as  the  others  had  pushed  their  chairs  back  he 
walked  hurriedly  to  the  veranda,  put  on  his  coonskin  cap, 
and  then  putting  his  head  in  the  door  called  "  Good 
bye!  "  and  started  down  the  front  path. 

'  Hold  on  there,  Timothy,  hold  on!  come  back  here! 
come  back!  "  shouted  the  Colonel. 

John  came  slowly  back. 
Where  you  going  ?  " 
Home." 

What  's  the  hurry — we  want  you  to  stay  all  night — 
wait  until  to-morrow  morning  and  take  an  early  start." 
'  Yes,  wait  until  to-morrow,"  added  Mrs.  Silverton. 


72  Time  and  Chance 

The  father,  mother,  two  sons  and  daughter  stood  bare 
headed  on  the  veranda.  They  looked  at  the  stripling  in 
wonderment — he  was  a  curiosity — a  novelty ;  they  desired 
to  look  him  over  as  they  might  some  strange  wild  animal, 
before  allowing  it  to  escape  to  its  native  jungle.  As 
deer,  pressed  by  necessity,  sometimes  run  into  villages, 
or  wild  birds  fly  in  at  open  windows,  so  this  strange 
specimen  of  humanity  had  strayed  into  their  midst. 

The  Colonel  smiled  indulgently  and  held  out  his  hand 
as  though  tempting  a  cow  with  salt.  George  and  James 
coughed,  Margaret  and  her  mother  beamed  sympathy 
and  compassion  from  four  blue  eyes  that  matched  the 
blue  of  their  dresses.  Behind  all  grinned  the  speckled 
face  of  Slivers  as  he  held  up  the  yellow  marble  in  token 
of  eternal  friendship. 

John  came  back  in  very  hang-dog  fashion.  He  no 
ticed  only  two  points;  these  were  that  Margaret  and  her 
mother  were  exactly  the  same  height  and  that  the  dresses 
were  doubtless  cut  from  one  piece. 

'  Please  say  it  quick,"  said  John,  "  I  've  got  to  make 
twelve  miles  to-night !  " 

"  Listen  to  that!  "  laughed  the  Colonel. 

"I  have  no  time  to  waste,"  continued  the  youth.  His 
dignity  was  coming  back. 

"Where  you  going  to  stay  to-night?  " 

"  At  Big  Tree  Clearing." 

"  Not  in  that  Indian  town  ?  " 

"  Yes,  with  Blackfoot,  the  chief." 
'  Wall,  if  you  was  starting  for  Big  Tree,  why  was  you 
going  back  to  town  ?     It 's  two  o'clock  now  and  't  will 
be  dark  'fore  you  get  through." 

"  I  was  going  to  exchange  these  ribbons,"  replied  the 
boy,  holding  up  a  small  package  he  held  in  his  hand. 

"  Who  are  they  for  ?  " 


John  Brown  Finds  Friends  and  Foes         73 

Of  course  the  great  Colonel  Silverton  had  no  interest 
in  these  trivialities;  he  was  only  supplying  amusement 
for  his  family. 

"  One  is  for  Ruth  Crosby  and  the  other  is  for  little 
Rachel.  I  got  two  yards  of  red  ribbon — a  yard  for  each 
— I  'm  going  to  take  it  back  and  get  blue.  Do  you  think 
the  man  will  be  mad  if  I  ask  him  to  change  it  ?  " 

"  Oh  no,  he  will  change  it  for  you,"  said  Mrs.  Silver- 
ton. 

'  What  else  is  in  your  package  ?  " 

"  Handkerchers  —  handkerchers  for  my  brothers  and 
sisters — seven  on  'em.  See  the  letters  and  pictures — 
are  n't  they  nice  ?  " 

Mrs.  Silverton  admired  the  flimsy  little  presents. 
George  and  James  laughed. 

"  But  who  is  the  Ruth  you  spoke  of  ? " 

Why,  don't  you  know  ?  But  I  forgot,  of  course  you 
don't — why,  Ruth  is — is — is — why,  she  is  Widow  Crosby 
and  she  teaches  school  and  takes  care  of  folks  when  they 
are  sick  or  in  trouble,  and  when  women  or  babies  die  she 
lays  'em  out." 

'  What  a  queer  person  she  must  be;  and  Rachel  is 
your  sister,  I  suppose  ?  " 

'  Why,  yes,  not  exactly,  though ;  she  is  Ruth's  little 
girl,  she  is  nine  going  on  ten." 

So  you  will  not  stay  all  night  ?  " 
"  No." 

But  you  will  when  you  come  again  ? " 
Yes,  perhaps." 

"  And  if  you  bring  cattle  fetch  them  right  here  to  me 
— I  will  pay  you  more  than  anyone  else." 

'  You  will  be  sure  to  make  this  your  home  when  you 
are  in  Zanesville!  "  said  Mrs.  Silverton. 
Yes,  thank  you,  but  I  must  go  now." 


74  Time  and  Chance 

Hold  on,  aint  you  going  to  shake  hands  before  you 
go  ?" 

John  stood  on  the  ground  and  solemnly  reached  up  his 
big,  bony  hand.  He  had  outgrown  his  jacket  so  the 
sleeves  were  short,  and  there  showed  a  long  length  of  red, 
sinewy  wrist. 

Each  shook  hands  with  him. 

'  Take  care  of  that  money,  Timothy — your  father 
has  n't  any  too  much,  I  reckon — good-bye,"  said  the 
Colonel. 

'  You  will  come  again,  John  Brown,  won't  you  ?" 
said  Margaret. 

"  If  the  Lord  wills!  "  answered  John.  And  this  made 
them  all  laugh,  all  save  Margaret.  John  noted  this  and 
thought  of  it  afterward.  Slivers  laughed  louder  than  all; 
the  Colonel  turned  and  made  a  kick  at  him,  and  if  his 
boot  had  hit  the  mark  it  might  have  meant  the  loss  of 
valuable  property. 

John  walked  rapidly,  and  very  awkwardly,  down  the 
hill.  He  unconsciously  lifted  his  feet  as  if  walking 
through  plowed  ground,  for  he  knew  that  seven  persons 
were  intently  watching  him  from  the  veranda. 

"  Let  's  set  the  dog  on  him,"  cried  George. 

"  All  right — let  's  :  how  he  will  scamper!  " 

"  He  might  kill  your  dog  and  come  back  and  thrash 
you  both!"  rebukingly  said  the  Colonel,  as  the  party 
strolled  into  the  house. 

The  Yankee  boy  went  to  the  big  store  and  the  ribbon 
was  exchanged  without  a  question.  The  proprietor  even 
asked  him  to  call  again.  This  pleased  the  boy  and  raised 
his  spirits  a  little :  his  heart  was  heavy,  for  he  felt  that  he 
had  been  trifled  with. 

He  started  off  out  of  the  village.  Up  at  the  top  of 
the  hill  he  stopped  and  looked  back.  Below  lay  the 


John  Brown  Finds  Friends  and  Foes         75 

town — a  very  Babel  of  sounds  and  commotion,  thought 
the  boy.  He  was  glad  to  get  away.  He  plunged  into 
the  forest  and  followed  the  narrow  road  on  an  easy  half 
run  and  walk,  such  as  the  Indians  had  taught  him. 

He  had  gone  perhaps  two  miles  when  he  heard  the 
clatter  of  hoofs  behind  him.  He  felt  to  see  that  his 
money  was  safe  and  then  stood  still.  The  quick  hoof- 
beats  came  nearer  and  the  boy  withdrew  into  the  bushes 
to  let  the  horseman  pass.  As  the  galloping  horse  ap 
peared,  John  peered  out  and  was  surprised  to  see  that 
the  rider  was  Slivers,  on  the  Colonel's  horse.  Slivers's 
feet  could  not  reach  the  stirrups,  so  the  stirrups  dangled 
and  swung  with  every  plunge.  As  the  horse  and  rider 
flew  past,  John  stepped  out  and  called. 

Slivers  drew  in  on  the  curb  bit  and  showed,  as  he  swung 
the  animal  around  by  a  neck-rein  twist,  that  he  was  an 
experienced  horseman. 

"  Oh,  I  was  afraid  I  'd  miss  you!  "  gasped  the  colored 
boy.  His  countenance  had  a  bluish  tinge  and  would 
have  been  pale  had  he  not  been  a  mulatto. 

"  Say,  Yank,"  he  continued,  "  you  must  do  some 
thing — I  don't  know  what— George  and  James  are  going  to 
rob  you.  I  heard  'em  plan  it  in  the  hay  mow — they  are 
going  on  horseback  by  the  East  Road  and  lay  for  you  at 
the  Gorge.  I  must  hurry  back  or  they  will  miss  me — I 
was  only  sent  to  the  blacksmith  shop  with  this  here 
horse." 

The  horse  and  rider  started  back  on  a  canter  and  left 
John  Brown  staring  after,  standing  in  the  middle  of  the 
road. 


76  Time  and  Chance 

CHAPTER   III 

OLD   BLACKFOOT   FOILS   AN   AMBUSCADE 

JOHN  BROWN  stood  still  until  the  sound  of  the  gal 
loping  horse  had  died  away. 

"  Huh!  Slivers  is  a  fool — I  'd  like  to  see  'em  rob  me! 
I  '11  get  a  club  and  fight  the  two  of  'em." 

He  started  ahead  on  a  walk. 

The  lad  was  no  coward.  An  ancestry  of  five  genera 
tions  that  had  fought  wild  beasts,  savages  and  men,  and 
that  had  coped  with  Nature  in  all  her  savage  moods,  had 
bred  in  his  blood  a  calm  indifference  to  danger.  In  fact 
to  those  early  settlers  danger  was  the  norm  and  safety 
the  extraordinary. 

Afraid  ?  not  he;  he  was  brother  to  the  panther;  his 
nerves  were  the  nerves  of  a  bear;  and  in  his  nature,  as 
in  the  nature  of  all  men  who  roam  wild  forests,  there  was 
the  cunning  of  the  fox.  He  pitted  his  craftiness  against 
the  untamed  forces  of  crude  Nature  or  against  those  finer 
forces  of  nature  manifest  in  brute  and  man. 

But  as  he  walked  he  pondered. 

He  had  asked  and  urged  his  father  for  the  privilege  of 
making  this  trip  alone.  The  young  delight  in  their 
strength,  and  the  first  foretaste  of  coming  power  is  sweet. 
He  knew  he  could  drive  those  cattle  to  Zanesville,  a  hun 
dred  miles;  he  knew  he  could  sell  them  and  bring  the 
money  safely  home ;  he  craved  that  he  might  be  allowed 
to  do  it. 

All  had  gone  well  so  far;  in  two  more  days  he  would 
walk  into  his  father's  house;  he  would  lay  the  money  on 
the  table.  His  father  would  say  little,  but  he  would  be 
very  proud  of  him ;  and  all  the  children  would  crowd 
around  and  get  their  presents,  and  he  would  give  them 


Old  Blackfoot  Foils  an  Ambuscade          77 

each  one  of  the  funny  handkerchiefs,  and  tell  them  of  the 
wonderful  things  he  had  seen.  Then  he  would  go  over 
to  Ruth's  little  home  behind  the  church  and  she  would 
kiss  him,  and  he  would  kiss  little  Rachel,  and  then  he 
would  give  them  the  blue  ribbon  and  they  would  all  be 
very  happy. 

Ah !  but  suppose  he  was  waylaid  and  robbed !  The 
pictured  handkerchiefs  would  be  stolen,  the  ribbon,  too, 
and  all  the  money — and  then  how  dared  he  go  home  and 
confess  that  he  had  not  been  able  to  care  for  himself? 

He  started  forward  on  a  trot.  Then  he  stopped  and 
took  the  money  out  and  looked  at  it;  he  opened  the 
parcel  in  which  the  handkerchiefs  were  tied ;  he  counted 
them.  Yes,  there  were  still  six,  none  had  been  stolen; 
he  looked  at  the  ribbon  and  made  sure  there  were  two 
full  yards,  and  the  color  blue. 

There  was  little  breeze  through  that  long  aisle  of  stately 
trees — it  was  warm.  He  took  off  his  jacket  and  cap 
and  tied  them  in  a  bundle  with  a  twist  of  hickory  bark; 
he  changed  the  trot  to  an  Indian  lope,  and  when  he 
came  to  a  stream  where  there  was  a  wide  shallow  ford  he 
knew  that  he  had  come  five  miles. 

He  took  off  his  shoes  and  the  cool  water  was  very  re 
freshing  to  his  feet.  He  wished  to  sit  down  on  a  big 
bowlder  that  was  in  mid  stream  and  watch  the  snake- 
feeders  as  they  circled  around,  and  the  kingfisher  that 
sat  on  a  dead  limb,  and  the  minnows  that  swam  in  the  ed 
dies  where  the  water  was  deep.  But  there  was  no  time 
for  that  now,  the  Gorge  was  seven  miles  beyond ;  he 
must  pass  it  before  dark. 

He  bathed  his  hands  in  the  water,  and  lay  flat  down 
on  the  bank  and  drank  and  then  soused  his  head  under. 
When  he  arose  the  water  ran  dripping  down  his  long  hair 
that  was  matted  over  his  head. 


78  Time  and  Chance 

The  sun  was  sinking  behind  the  hills.  He  hastened 
his  steps.  The  miles  were  slipping  behind,  but  the  sun 
kept  going  down,  and  down,  and  down.  It  was  a  great 
golden  ball  hung  in  the  heavens  by  an  invisible  thread. 
The  boy  kept  looking  over  his  shoulder  as  he  ran,  and  saw 
that  the  ball  kept  dropping.  The  edge  touched  the  tree- 
tops  and  sank  lower;  when  he  looked  again  the  upper 
rim  had  dropped  clear  from  sight  and  there  were  only 
great  red  streaks  marking  the  spot  where  it  had  dis 
appeared. 

The  Gorge  was  yet  two  miles  away. 

The  East  Road  was  a  little  farther  than  the  road  our 
lad  traversed ;  these  roads  joined  but  a  short  distance 
beyond  the  Gorge.  This  gorge  was  a  narrow  ravine— 
seemingly  an  immense  fissure  in  the  stratum  of  sand 
stone;  a  stream  had  run  through  it  years  before,  but  now 
it  was  only  a  dry  bed  of  gravel  with  perpendicular  walls 
of  solid  rock  on  either  side. 

The  boy  felt  sure  that  these  degenerate  sons  of  Colonel 
Silverton  would  calculate  on  his  walking  not  more  than 
four  miles  an  hour,  and  at  this  rate  he  would  not  be 
due  at  the  spot  for  some  time. 

The  question  was  whether  he  should  go  straight  ahead 
and  run  the  risk  of  their  meeting  him,  or  should  he  make 
a  detour  of  the  dangerous  spot.  As  to  which  was  the 
safer  course  there  was  no  doubt,  but  youth  always 
delights  in  taking  chances. 

John  cut  a  two-foot  length  of  wild  cherry  an  inch  and 
a  half  thick  and  started  ahead  on  a  brisk  run.  Outside 
of  the  ravine  it  was  barely  dusk,  inside  it  was  gloomy, 
and  the  darkness  seemed  to  have  been  pushed  over  the 
top  and  tramped  down. 

The  boy  eased  his  pace  to  a  slow  walk  to  show  himself 
that  he  was  not  afraid.  He  started  to  whistle,  but  con- 


Old  Blackfoot  Foils  an  Ambuscade  79 

eluded  he  had  better  not.  He  moved  forward,  warding 
off  the  dark  by  swinging  his  club;  soon  light  shone 
through  at  the  other  end — it  grew  larger  and  the  lad  took 
longer  breaths. 

He  was  safely  through — -the  danger  lay  behind. 

"Slivers  lied  to  me — that  's  what  he  did.  But  then  I 
would  rather  Slivers  would  tell  me  I  was  going  to  be 
robbed,  and  lie,  than  to  say  I  would  be  robbed,  and  tell 
the  truth.  Still  the  Bible  says  we  should  not  lie — ah, 
here  is  the  cross  track  coming  down  the  hill  from  the 
East  Road." 

He  sat  down  on  a  big  flat  stone  to  rest — he  listened — 
then  he  got  down  on  his  knees  and  laid  his  ear  to  the 
ground. 

"Someone  is  coming — two  someones." 

The  rhythmic  patter  of  hoofs  on  the  dry  earth  could 
plainly  be  heard.  They  came  nearer  and  nearer.  John 
crept  back  into  the  bushes.  In  five  minutes  two  men  on 
horseback  came  down  the  hill  through  the  trees,  turned 
into  the  main  road,  and  passed  within  ten  feet  of  where 
the  boy  lay. 

They  were  George  and  James  Silverton. 

George  carried  a  shotgun  on  the  pommel  of  his  saddle. 
As  they  moved  slowly  by  John  caught  the  words: 

"He  won't  be  here  for  at  least  half  an  hour  yet." 

"  No,  we  are  in  time — we  will  catch  him  at  this  end  of 
the  Gorge." 

"You  '11  hold  the  gun  on  him,  and  if  he  runs,  shoot." 

The  voices  died  away  into  a  murmur.  John  moved 
along  for  a  hundred  yards  in  the  edge  of  the  bushes,  then 
slipped  off  his  shoes  and,  carrying  them  in  his  hand, 
started  on  a  run  for  the  Indian  village  two  miles  beyond. 

When  he  reached  the  two  or  three  log  huts  and  the 
collection  of  bark  teepees,  he  was  greeted  by  a  full  half 


8o  Time  and  Chance 

dozen  dogs.  He  gave  a  whoop  and  a  call  in  Indian 
tongue  to  announce  his  coming;  a  squaw  came  out  and 
drove  the  dogs  away  with  a  stick.  Old  Chief  Blackfoot 
was  sitting  by  a  camp-fire  hugging  his  knees  and  scarcely 
looked  up  as  the  boy  approached,  but  seeing  who  it  was 
out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye,  he  grunted : 

"How,  how,  Little  Blue,  you  come  heap  soon — you 
deer  foot — run  fast." 

"Yes,  Father,  I  ran  fast;  they  tried  to  rob  me — they 
are  up  at  the  Gorge  now." 

"Ho,  ho!  I  thought  Little  Blue  no  'fraid  of  dark?  " 

"I  'm  not  afraid  of  the  dark,  but  I  tell  you  there  are 
robbers  up  there." 

Blue  was  as  near  Brown  as  old  Chief  Blackfoot  could 
come;  he  respected  the  Browns  and  during  several  hard 
winters  had  been  supplied  with  provisions  by  "Big 
Blue,"  to  whom  he  applied  for  help  when  times  were 
hard.  For  "Little  Blue"  he  had  a  genuine  affection, 
and  when  he  got  it  through  his  stupid  head  that  some 
one  had  tried  to  waylay  the  lad,  he  sprang  up  all  alert. 

He  soon  understood  the  case  and  called  to  three  rag 
ged  and  dirty  "bucks"  sitting  near,  to  whom  he  ex 
plained  the  situation  in  rapid  lingo. 

It  was  not  pure  philanthropy  or  friendship  that  stirred 
Old  Blackfoot  to  action ;  it  was  rather  that  the  piping 
times  of  peace  which  had  recently  been  enforced  on  him 
were  not  to  his  taste,  and  he  jumped  at  the  chance  of  a 
little  adventure. 

He  issued  an  order  to  one  of  the  bucks.  The  Indian 
at  once  picked  up  a  big  coil  of  hay  rope  that  lay  near, 
and  like  a  spirit  disappeared  in  the  darkness. 

In  ten  minutes  more  they  started — three  bucks,  five 
squaws,  half  a  dozen  Indian  children,  and  one  white 
boy. 


Old  Blackfoot  Foils  an  Ambuscade  81 

John  insisted  thai:  guns  and  bows  and  arrows  should  be 
left  behind,  for  he  wanted  no  murder. 

The  bare  feet  and  the  moccasins  made  not  the  faintest 
sound  as  they  moved  on  down  the  road  like  a  group  of 
gray  ghosts  towards  the  Gorge. 

Not  a  word  was  spoken. 

As  they  neared  the  ravine  the  women  and  children 
were  signaled  to  remain  behind.  They  sat  down  in  the 
middle  of  the  road  as  if  camping  out  for  the  night,  each 
holding  fast  to  the  neck  of  a  dog.  The  three  Indians 
and  Little  Blue  skirted  the  track  through  the  trees  and 
approached  the  Gorge.  The  neigh  of  a  horse  was  heard 
and  the  attempt  of  the  rider  to  quiet  him  and  stop  his 
pawing. 

"It  's  time  he  was  here,"  said  James  in  an  undertone 
that  came  clear  and  distinct  through  the  silent  night. 
'  Yes,  but  we  rode  on  a  gallop  most  of  the  way!  " 

"D*  ye  think  he  has  two  hundred  dollars  ?  " 

"  Fully  that — if  he  fights  shall  we  kill  him  ?  " 

Well,  not  exactly  kill  him — but  then  he  's  only  a 
Yank  anyway,  you  know.  I  '11  tell  you  what  we  '11 
do—" 

But  he  did  not  tell.  At  a  signal  from  Old  Blackfoot 
four  stones  went  whizzing  at  the  horsemen  and  four 
voices  sent  up  a  wild  yell  followed  with  a  ki,  yi,  yi,  ki, 
yi,  yi,  that  awoke  the  echoes  for  miles  about. 

Before  the  Indians  could  spring  into  the  road  the 
frantic  horses  had  shot  down  through  the  narrow  ravine 
in  a  mad  race  for  life,  their  hoofs  sending  a  shower  of 
gravel  through  the  branches  of  the  scrubby  oaks  on  either 
side. 

Little  Blue's  club  flew  through  the  air  towards  the  flee 
ing  horsemen  ;  the  dogs  were  at  their  heels. 

The  squaws  and  children  had  disobeyed  orders  and 


82  Time  and  Chance 

crawled  up,  evidently  as  the  men  had,  and  they  all 
rushed  with  shouts  and  yells  pell-mell  into  the  Gorge, 
the  barking  dogs  clear  ahead  in  hot  pursuit. 

The  clattering  hoofs  suddenly  ceased ;  there  was  that 
wild  scream  of  a  falling  horse  which  very  few  men  ever 
hear,  and  as  the  mob  of  yelling  Indians  emerged  with 
a  rush  from  the  ravine  and  passed  down  the  road,  they 
saw  ahead  two  men  scramble  onto  one  horse  and  disap 
pear,  like  a  shadow,  into  the  night. 

A  squaw  who  had  taken  her  skirts  under  her  arm  and 
run  like  a  sprinter,  outstripping  all  the  rest,  turned  a 
double  somersault  in  the  road  and  all  the  Indians  stopped 
and  laughed. 

The  moon's  faint  rays  were  coming  over  the  hill :  they 
showed  a  dead  horse  in  the  middle  of  the  road.  Little 
Blue  put  down  his  hand  and  felt  a  hay  rope  stretched 
tightly  from  tree  to  tree  just  where  the  knees  of  a  horse 
would  strike  it. 

'  Ugh!     Dam  —  no  luck — me  want  two  blankets!" 
grunted  Old  Blackfoot. 

The  squaws  took  the  saddle,  bridle  and  halter  from  the 
dead  horse.  The  blanket  that  was  beneath  the  saddle 
Old  Blackfoot  appropriated  for  himself  and  wrapped  it 
around  his  form  after  the  manner  of  a  Roman  Senator. 
Ten  feet  away  in  the  edge  of  the  bushes  was  a  shotgun 
— one  of  the  squaws  found  it.  The  chief  at  once  took  it 
away  from  her  and  gave  the  gun  to  Little  Blue.  The  lad 
turned  it  over  to  the  woman's  husband,  the  man  who 
had  gone  ahead  and  tied  the  rope  across  the  road. 

The  saddle  was  taken  apart,  two  Indians  each  taking 
a  stirrup,  another  the  seat,  and  another  the  crupper. 
The  bridle  and  halter  were  also  separated  into  parts  as 
much  as  buckles  would  allow;  the  tail  and  mane  were 
cut  off  from  the  dead  horse  and  the  spoils  were  then 


The  Deacon  Does  a-Wooing  Go  83 

distributed  by  the  chief,  even  the  children  having  a 
share. 

All  took  hold  and  dragged  the  carcass  of  the  horse  into 
the  bushes  and  the  march  for  home  was  begun. 

"  Ugh!  "  said  Chief  Blackfoot  as  they  dived  into  the 
blackness  of  the  Gorge,  "  Ugh,  me  no  luck  since  pale 
face  come — dam!  " 


CHAPTER    IV 

THE  DEACON   DOES  A-WOOING  GO 

T"^  IGHT  years  before,  John's  mother  had  died.  To  be 
C  motherless  is  the  saddest  condition  that  comes  to 
youthful  mortals  on  earth ;  but  fate  is  seldom  wholly 
cruel :  John  went  straight  to  Ruth  Crosby  and  sobbed 
the  keen  edge  off  his  desolation,  sitting  on  her  lap  with 
his  arms  about  her  neck.  Sleep,  kindly  sleep,  comes  to 
stricken  childhood,  just  as  the  kindly  sleep  of  death 
comes  to  take  the  burden  from  grown  folks  when  the 
load  grows  too  heavy  to  bear. 

Ruth  undressed  the  boy  and  laid  him  beside  her  own 
chubby  little  darling,  who  was  clasping  a  rag  doll  in  her 
sleep  and  dreaming  the  dreams  of  babyhood. 

Ruth  tucked  them  in,  and  as  she  looked  at  the  fresh, 
innocent  faces  she  sighed  and  said: 

"  I  wonder  if  they  too  must  journey  by  the  thorn 
road  as  the  years  go  by ! 

She  undressed  there  in  the  moonlight  and  lay  down  on 
the  bed  that  stood  beside  the  other. 

When  she  awoke  the  sunlight  was  streaming  in  through 
the  sliding  window,  and  in  the  trundle  bed  John,  Rachel, 
and  the  rag  doll  were  making  a  house  out  of  the  bed 
clothes,  and  chatting  merrily;  Rachel  repeating  the 


84  Time  and  Chance 

words  for  the  doll,  who  was  tongue-tied  and  could  not 
talk. 

"  Are  you  'wake,  Ruth  ?  "  called  John. 

11  Yes." 

'  Well,  Rachel  says  I  'm  to  be  your  boy  and  you  are 
to  be  my  mother — aint  it  nice  ?  " 

'  Yes,  my  boy,  I  asked  your  father,  and  he  says  you 
may  stay  here." 

A  few  weeks  after  this  Deacon  Brown  came  to  call  one 
evening;  quite  smiling,  he  was,  for  a  widower.  He  wore 
a  "  biled  shirt,"  squeaky  boots,  and  had  had  his  whiskers 
shaved  after  the  manner  of  the  giddy  youth  of  that  day 
and  generation.  Everyone  in  the  village  knew  that  he 
had  called  on  the  Widow  Crosby  on  a  week  day,  and 
that  he  wore  his  "  other  clothes."  But  no  one  knew 
exactly  what  the  conversation  was  that  took  place. 

In  four  weeks  thereafter  Deacon  Brown  was  married  to 
a  widow  about  his  own  age :  a  worthy  woman  who  had 
seen  hard  work  and  trouble  and  all  the  privation  that 
comes  to  the  lot  of  pioneers.  She  was  not  a  "  smart  " 
woman,  but  she  did  her  duty  as  she  saw  it,  and  entered 
on  her  new  life  with  the  Christian  determination  to  bear 
and  forbear.  Her  goodly  flock,  added  to  the  Browns, 
made  quite  a  house-full,  and  no  one  urged  that  a  certain 
little  stray  called  John  Brown  should  come  back  from 
the  fold  where  he  had  found  shelter.  So  John  staid  at 
Ruth's,  and  cut  her  wood,  and  made  garden,  and  she 
taught  him  to  read  and  write  and  "  do  sums";  and 
every  other  morning  he  went  over  to  his  father's  and  was 
set  to  work  at  some  task.  For  the  labor  of  children  is  their 
parents'  right :  no  one  ever  doubted  that  until  yesterday. 
Children  were  once  a  good  financial  investment.  You 
cared  for  them  until  they  were  about  ten  years  old  (or 
less),  and  after  that  you  owned  everything  that  they  pro- 


The  Deacon  Does  a-Wooing  Go  85 

duced  until  noon  on  the  day  when  the  boy  was  twenty- 
one  and  the  girl  eighteen. 

It  does  not  "  pay  "  to  raise  children  now — they  are  a 
serious  bill  of  expense,  and  the  advice  to  give  a  man 
about  to  start  family  life  is,  "  don't." 

But  blood  is  stronger  than  finance,  and  even  in  New 
England  there  is  yet  marrying  and  giving  in  marriage ; 
but  the  average  number  of  children  to  each  couple 
has  been  cut  down  to  three,  whereas  in  1810  it  was 
eight. 

Deacon  Brown  prospered  in  worldly  affairs.  His  calm, 
judicial  quality  of  mind  easily  crowned  him  as  First 
Citizen  of  the  place :  he  was  Deacon,  Justice  of  the  Peace, 
School  Trustee  and  Postmaster.  His  tannery  brought 
him  a  goodly  income,  and  while  his  flocks  and  herds  did 
not  cover  a  thousand  hills,  yet  for  the  time  and  place 
they  were  large. 

The  Judsons  plodded  along  after  their  kind.  They 
had  the  reputation  of  being  "nice  folks,"  but  "shiftless"  ; 
yet  they  always  had  enough  to  eat,  and  they  could  not 
get  very  much  in  debt,  even  if  they  wished,  for  there 
was  no  one  to  trust  them.  Jedediah  became  a  preacher 
of  considerable  power — that  is  he  preached  loud  and  he 
preached  long — and  no  one  doubted  his  earnestness. 
His  personality  was  not  strong  enough  to  crowd  Deacon 
Brown,  who  practically  ran  the  church  (for  a  church,  like 
every  other  institution,  must  be  managed  by  a  one-man 
power  if  it  flourishes),  and  so  he  kept  his  place  and  also 
established  other  churches  in  settlements  round  about, 
acting  as  missionary  and  circuit  rider. 

When  Jedediah  was  absent  on  "  Lord's  Day  "  Deacon 
Brown  would  conduct  the  services,  and  instead  of  preach 
ing  a  sermon  of  his  own,  he  would  read  one  by  Jonathan 
Edwards.  And  it  was  whispered  about  that  Deacon 


86  Time  and  Chance 

Brown  kept  the  Reverend  Judson  out  on  the  circuit  con 
siderable  more  than  was  meet. 

One  fine  day  when  the  young  circuit  rider  rode  into 
town  there  was  seated  on  a  pillion  behind  him,  with  her 
arms  tightly  clasped  around  his  waist,  a  blooming, 
buxom  young  woman. 

The  children  in  the  street  saw  them  coming  and 
straightway  ran  into  the  houses  to  tell  their  respective 
mothers.  And  as  the  preacher  rode  forward  on  a  slow 
trot,  up  the  street,  he  passed  in  review  before  dozens  of 
eyes  that  peeked  through  fences,  over  fences,  under 
fences,  from  windows  and  from  behind  doors. 

The  good  women  of  the  place  were  warm  with  indig 
nation  at  the  scandalous  proceeding.  The  old  horse  and 
his  two  riders  stopped  in  front  of  the  grocery,  and  Dea 
con  Brown  was  called  out.  The  blushing  young  woman 
(still  holding  tight-fast,  because  in  her  embarrassment 
she  had  forgotten  to  let  go)  was  introduced  as  Jedediah's 
wife.  The  Deacon  would  have  kissed  her,  but  the  horse 
was  full  sixteen  hands.  The  explanation  was  made  that 
they  had  been  married  that  same  day.  The  preacher 
then  headed  the  horse  for  the  two-room  log  cabin  of 
Widow  Crosby.  In  response  to  the  "  Hello  !  "  the  widow 
came  out,  and  Jedediah  said,  "  This  is  my  wife,"  giving 
the  young  woman  behind  a  gentle  jab  in  the  ribs  with 
his  elbow. 

Contrary  to  Jedediah's  expectation,  Ruth  shook  hands 
cordially  with  them  both,  wishing  them  long  life  and 
much  happiness.  Then  they  rode  to  the  Judsons', 
where  they  dismounted  and  going  in  made  this  parent 
nest  their  home  for  the  time  being. 

The  good  women  of  the  place  were  not  at  all  appeased, 
even  when  they  knew  that  the  buxom  young  woman  was 
the  legal  wife  of  the  man  to  whom  she  clung  (through 


The  Deacon  Does  a-Wooing  Go  87 

evil  and  good  report),  as  they  rode  that  first  morning, 
when  for  them  the  world  was  young.  Yet  all  of  these 
women  at  times  rode  on  pillions,  and  all  clung  to  their 
husbands  when  there  was  danger  of  sliding  off,  and  such 
as  had  no  husbands  clung  also,  only  instead  of  putting 
their  arms  around  the  man's  waist  they  put  their  hands 
on  his  shoulders,  and  this  was  the  distinguishing  feature 
between  the  wedded  and  the  soon-to-be. 

The  wrath  of  these  women  was  kindled,  and  that  not 
a  little,  for  "  what  right  has  the  pastor  nohow  to  go  off 
and  git  married  without  saying  nothing  to  nobody!  " 

All  were  very  angry,  save  one — that  one  was  Ruth 
Crosby. 

Jedediah  had  followed  her  with  his  leering  looks, 
until  a  week  before  she  had  requested  him  not  to  come 
to  her  house. 

His  rhinoceros  hide  was  stung  at  last.  And  when  he 
saw  Liza  Ann,  the  blooming  daughter  of  Joshua  Hos- 
kins,  at  whose  house  he  was  stopping,  the  bleeding  of 
his  broken  heart  ceased.  The  girl  was  younger  than  Ruth  ; 
she  was  prettier  than  Ruth;  she  was  bigger  than  Ruth. 

Jedediah  looked  at  her  across  the  supper  table,  and  ate 
the  salt  pork  and  dock  greens,  and  she  colored  and  sim 
pered  a  bit  just  as  buxom  young  women  of  eighteen  will ; 
and  he  decided  then  and  there  that  he  would  marry  Liza 
Ann  if  her  folks  were  willing. 

After  the  supper  things  were  done,  he  broached  the 
subject  to  her  father.  The  family  sat  around  and 
listened.  That  a  preacher  should  select  Liza  Ann  for  a 
wife  was  very  flattering  to  the  house  of  Hoskins.  To 
make  the  matter  secure,  Jedediah  explained  that  he  had 
had  the  young  lady  in  mind  for  a  year;  he  had  prayed 
over  the  subject  earnestly  and  now  was  acting  as  the 
Lord  directed. 


88  Time  and  Chance 

Mr.  Hoskins  had  only  lived  in  the  neighborhood  six 
months,  but  he  was  not  given  to  quibble:  he  gave  the 
couple  his  hearty  blessing  and  the  bride  a  feather  bed. 

So  the  next  day  they  rode  to  a  certain  "  Elder  "  who 
lived  a  few  miles  away;  and  then  on  to  Hudson,  where 
they  arrived  all  as  herein  truthfully  recorded. 

All  that  morning  as  they  rode,  the  bridegroom's 
thoughts  dwelt  more  on  another  woman  than  on  his 
newly  wedded  wife.  He  thought  of  Ruth  Crosby  and 
chuckled  to  himself  as  he  anticipated  the  look  of  sur 
prise  and  pain  that  would  sweep  over  her  face  when  he 
presented  his  new  wife. 

But  alas,  it  is  the  unexpected  that  happens — we  know 
everything  but  the  obvious !  All  the  women  in  town  were 
surprised  and  all  were  pained,  save  Ruth  alone. 

Yet  surprise  is  transient  and  pain  does  not  last  forever. 
The  women  gradually  got  over  their  wrath,  and  the  men 
held  a  bee  and  built  a  parsonage :  and  the  women  fur 
nished  it,  for  mortals  like  ants  only  do  good  work  col 
lectively. 

The  preacher  and  his  wife  moved  in. 

In  a  year  they  were  blessed  with  twins. 

Another  year  passed  and  a  third  child  came. 

The  bloom  on  the  cheek  of  the  parson's  wife  had  gone; 
the  simper  had  changed  to  a  scowl ;  the  laughing  eyes 
had  lost  their  twinkle;  the  roundness  of  her  form  gave 
place  to  angularity;  and  her  voice  grew  loud  aud  dis 
cordant.  She  worked  and  toiled  in  house  and  field  try 
ing  to  make  both  ends  meet.  Of  course  she  scolded. 
When  fate  is  unkind,  men  swear  and  get  drunk,  but  a 
woman  can  only  scold.  It  is  her  right.  The  worst  con 
dition  that  overtook  Saul,  who  came  from  Tarsus,  in  all 
his  tragic  career  was  when  he  was  chained  to  a  Roman ; 
a  dull,  unsympathetic,  bestial  Roman  soldier. 


The  Deacon  Does  a-Wooing  Go  89 

Liza  Ann  Hoskins  might  have  made  a  gentle,  worthy 
woman,  but  being  chained  to  Jedediah  Judson  she  de 
veloped  into  a  shrew,  and  lucky  it  was  for  her  that  the 
ducking  stool  had  been  left  in  Connecticut.  She  ruled 
Jedediah  as  one  having  authority :  she  said  to  this  one 
go,  and  he  cometh,  and  to  that  one,  come,  and  he  goeth. 
For  scolding  women  never  accomplish  their  desire.  The 
diplomacy  of  a  coquette  counts  for  more  than  the  imperi 
ous  threats  of  a  shrew.  Threatened  people  live  long. 

As  for  Ruth  Crosby,  her  face  grew  white,  people 
thought.  Yet  she  was  not  ill.  A  few  traces  of  silver 
were  seen  among  the  coils  of  her  dark-brown  hair.  She 
lived  in  her  little  cottage  with  its  snug  garden  behind; 
she  had  her  cow  and  chickens  and  a  little  flock  of  sheep. 
She  taught  the  village  school,  and  tended  the  sick,  and 
closed  the  eyes  of  the  dying.  And  once  when  there  was 
a  case  of  smallpox  at  a  house  in  the  edge  of  the  clearing, 
she  let  John  Brown  and  Rachel  go  to  a  neighbor's,  and 
she  was  nurse  and  doctor  to  the  patient  until  he  got  well. 

She  was  not  happy — who  is  ?  but  she  had  pleasures, 
for  she  knew  what  it  was  to  do  good  work. 

Up  in  her  garret,  where  it  was  not  high  enough  to 
stand  up  straight,  slept  John  Brown.  He  really  didn't 
know  which  was  home,  this  or  his  father's.  Perhaps  he 
liked  Ruth's  house  best.  Thus  stood  matters  in  the  year 
1815:  that  day  when  John  came  in  and  saw  Ruth  and 
little  Rachel  all  a-smiling — when  he  gave  them  each  a 
yard  of  blue  ribbon  that  he  had  fetched  clear  from 
Zanesville,  a  hundred  miles  away. 


90  Time  and  Chance 

CHAPTER   V 

JOHN   MEETS   TROUBLE,    AND   FACES   IT 

JOHN  BROWN  arrived  home  on  schedule  time,  and 
duly  gave  out  his  pictured  handkerchiefs  and  blue 
ribbon.  Squire  Brown  counted  the  money — it  was  right 
to  a  cent — he  patted  the  boy  on  the  head  and  gave  him 
a  silver  quarter  for  his  very  own.  The  dignified  Justice 
of  the  Peace  thought  it  best  not  to  praise  the  lad  to  his 
face — it  might  make  him  vain,  but  he  promised  the  boy 
that  some  time  he  might  go  again.  And  after  all,  this 
was  the  richest  reward  he  could  possibly  have  paid. 

Not  a  word  did  John  say  to  anyone  of  the  attempted 
robbery.  He  was  too  shrewd  for  that :  to  explain  that 
the  money  came  near  being  taken  away  from  him  would 
have  placed  a  veto  on  any  further  trips  alone.  His  father 
was  from  Connecticut,  and  loved  a  dollar  on  this  side  of 
idolatry  as  much  as  any.  John  kept  still. 

Then  it  was  not  much  of  an  adventure  anyway.  Sev 
eral  good  men  and  true,  who  lived  in  the  village,  daily 
told  tales  of  strife  twice  as  great  as  this:  these  men 
loved  a  lie  for  its  own  sake,  and  this  quiet  boy  felt  too 
deeply  to  think  of  going  into  competition  with  the  vil 
lage  romancer  by  displaying  his  truth  alongside  of  the 
other's  fiction. 

He  told  Ruth  of  the  beautiful  lady  he  had  seen,  and  of 
her  beautiful  daughter,  and  how  they  both  wore  blue 
dresses,  and  how  they  shook  hands  with  him ;  and  he 
held  out  his  hand  to  show  by  way  of  proof.  Little 
Rachel  took  the  hand,  holding  onto  the  fingers,  and 
looked  it  over  solemnly. 

The  village  of  Hudson  had  grown  until  there  were 
twenty-five  houses,  and  not  all  were  made  from  logs 


John  Meets  Trouble,  and  Faces  It  91 

either,  for  there  was  a  saw-mill  down  by  the  river  now. 
But  yet  no  one  kept  servants — all  did  their  own  work, 
except  in  case  of  sickness,  and  then  neighbors  came  in 
and  did  it  for  them.  No  one  had  a  big  long  veranda, 
and  surely  no  woman  in  Hudson  had  a  beautiful  blue 
dress  and  white  shawl :  and  even  if  she  had  she  would 
not  have  had  time  to  sit  on  the  veranda  and  look  pretty ! 

And  then  the  colored  boy  who  waited  on  table,  who 
was  n't  colored  so  awful  much,  for  he  was  nearly  white, 
and  all  the  other  colored  folks  that  John  had  caught 
glimpses  of,  all  were  very  funny.  Ruth  and  Rachel 
were  much  interested,  and  so  were  the  neighbor  women 
who  dropped  in.  John  told  it  all  several  times  over,  de 
scribing  the  house,  the  pictures  on  the  walls,  the  furni 
ture  and  dishes  and  silverware,  always  ending  by  saying, 

They  all  shook  hands  with  me  and  said  I  must  come 
again."  John  had  gained  in  strength  as  the  years  passed. 
He  was  tall  and  slender,  but  very  wiry.  At  wrestling 
and  foot  racing  he  could  beat  many  boys  who  were  older 
than  he,  but  yet  he  was  a  "woman's  boy,"  and  he  would 
always  rather  play  with  girls  than  boys.  This  had 
given  him  a  gentleness  and  withal  a  modest  dignity 
that  made  him  the  butt  of  the  jokers  at  the  grocery, 
but  it  gained  him  the  admiration  of  the  discerning. 

He  was  religious  through  and  through.  Not  a  trace 
of  skepticism  had  ever  blown  across  his  soul ;  he  had  a 
simple,  childish  faith  in  an  overruling  Providence  that 
watches  our  every  act.  '  Whatever  is,  is  best,"  is  a 
grim  doctrine,  but  it  breeds  the  sternest  kind  of  courage 
in  a  man ;  and  he  who  can  cling  to  it  through  life's  vicis 
situdes  is  a  fool— or  else  a  saint  in  whose  breast  there 
throbs  a  lion's  heart. 

Squire  Brown  was  considerable  of  a  speculator,  and 
the  success  of  his  son  in  selling  the  last  lot  of  cattle 


92  Time  and  Chance 

induced  him  to  try  it  again.  From  settlers  around  he 
purchased  a  drove  of  a  dozen  beef  cattle,  and  instructing 
John  to  sell  them  for  twenty-five  dollars  each  or  drive 
them  back,  the  lad  started  away.  By  picking  out  the 
probable  leader  of  the  drove  and  leading  him  with  a  rope 
the  others  would  follow  behind,  with  the  assistance  of  an 
occasional  nip  from  Simon,  the  Scotch  Collie. 

Then  in  a  new  country  cattle  are  not  given  to  straying 
— they  stick  to  the  drove.  Unlike  the  cattle  of  the 
plains,  domesticated  cattle  in  a  wooded  country  rather 
implore  the  protection  of  man  than  disclaim  it.  Cows 
know  a  deal  of  natural  history,  and  if  they  could  talk, 
what  legends  they  could  give  of  calves  that  strayed  away 
and  were  devoured  by  wolves ;  or  sick  cows  for  which 
wild  beasts  lay  in  wait  day  after  day,  waiting  until  the 
protection  of  the  horns  and  hoofs  of  her  mates  was  out 
of  the  way ! 

The  journey  to  Zanesville  was  not  difficult.  It  was 
divided  up  into  stages  of  ten  or  fifteen  miles  a  day.  Each 
night  there  was  a  settler's  cabin,  where  the  boy  was  made 
thrice  welcome  and  his  cattle  were  yarded.  The  stock 
was  driven  slowly  and  allowed  to  graze  along  the  way  in 
bottom-lands  and  open  spaces,  so  that  they  would  arrive 
in  good  condition. 

The  night  before  Zanesville  was  reached  John  stopped 
at  the  Indian  village. 

Chief  Blackfoot  looked  at  the  youth  in  disapproval, 
and  the  squaws  walked  around  him  and  felt  him  over 
with  smiles  of  wonderment.  The  cause  of  all  this  was 
that  the  boy  had  exchanged  buckskin  for  homespun,  and 
the  coonskin  cap  had  been  replaced  with  a  man's  broad 
brim,  felt  hat.  Only  a  month  had  passed,  and  aside  from 
the  change  in  raiment,  cubits  had  been  added  to  the  boy's 
stature.  As  a  sudden  jar  will  at  the  right  time  turn  a 


John  Meets  Trouble,  and  Faces  It  93 

liquid  to  a  crystal,  or  a  severe  experience  turn  dark  hair 
to  white  in  a  single  day,  so  there  are  times  in  the  life  of 
man  when  the  soul  moves  onward  with  a  bound.  We 
grow  by  throes  and  throbs. 

At  daylight  John  left  the  Indian  village  with  his  cattle. 
By  noon  he  stood  on  the  hilltop  and  looked  down  on  the 

city."  It  was  the  world— the  great,  busy,  seething, 
active  world  of  men,  of  which  he  was  now  a  part! 

His  eye  ran  across  to  the  east.  There  on  the  hillside 
above  the  town,  stood  Silverside,  the  homestead  of 
Colonel  Silverton ;  behind  the  house  were  the  white 
washed  "  quarters  "  of  the  servants;  to  the  left  the  barn, 
the  carriage  house  and  cattle  pens. 

The  boy's  heart  beat  fast. 

Whom  did  he  wish  to  see  there  ?  Why,  Colonel  Sil 
verton,  of  course,  to  whom  he  expected  to  sell  the  cattle. 
And  then  Jim  Slivers,  too,  for  he  had  neglected  to  thank 
the  colored  boy  that  day  when  he  warned  him  of  the  plot 
that  had  been  laid  to  rob  him.  Above  all,  he  wanted  to 
face  George  and  James  Silverton — to  look  them  squarely 
in  the  eye  and  show  them  he  was  neither  a  fool  nor  a 
coward.  It  was  unchristian  to  fight,  but  he  would  like 
to  wrestle  either  one  or  both,  and  he  would  cross-buttock 
them  onto  their  heads  in  a  way  that  would  make  them 
see  stars. 

Then  he  wanted  to  see  Mrs.  Silverton.  He  liked  the 
lady  and  yet  he  was  piqued  to  think  how  patronizingly 
she  had  treated  him,  and  Margaret  had  been  even  more 
condescending.  He  was  now  positively  offended  to  think 
that  she  had  treated  him  as  if  he  were  a  little  boy.  She 
was  a  young  lady,  as  tall  as  her  mother,  a  little  more 
slender,  perhaps,  and  her  blue  dress  came  only  to  her 
shoe  tops,  but  she  was  a  young  lady  and  she  had  almost 
talked  baby  talk  to  him. 


94  Time  and  Chance 

He  disliked  her  heartily. 

And  yet — he  did  wish  his  hair  would  not  stand  up  so 
bristling  all  over  his  head !  Ruth  had  barbered  him  and 
the  cut  was  too  short ;  his  hair  was  as  obstinate  as  a  balky 
mule,  so  it  was!  He  took  off  his  hat  and  tried  to  smooth 
it  down  with  his  hand,  but  it  was  hardly  a  success. 

The  sun  was  hot  and  John  did  not  care  to  enter  town 
in  his  shirt  sleeves.  He  was  too  proud  of  his  coat  for 
that.  The  thought  occurred  to  him  that  he  could  re 
move  the  woolen  shirt  and  wear  only  the  vest  and  coat — 
the  vest  being  cut  high  in  the  neck  anyway.  So  the  shirt 
was  removed,  and  hidden  in  the  bushes  where  he  could 
find  it  on  the  way  back.  The  vest  was  then  put  on  and 
buttoned  down  the  front  with  its  row  of  sixteen  buck- 
horn  buttons,  the  coat  was  put  on  and  the  line  of  march 
moved  forward. 

Jim  Slivers  saw  him  coming  and  ran  down  the  road  to 
meet  him.  The  slave  boy  was  frightened  and  his  freckles 
stood  out  like  daubs  of  brown  paint. 

"  Stop!  you  must  go  back — you  won't  tell  on  me,  will 
you  ?  —  they  '11  kill  me  if  you  do  —  they  '11  kill  me!" 
groaned  Slivers. 

'  Tell  them  that  you  warned  me  ?  —  never,  never, 
here  's  my  hand." 

The  slave  boy  clung  to  the  proffered  hand  with  both 
his  own  and  cried  over  it. 

I  run  Marse's  horse  to  cotch  you  that  day  'til  he 
was  all  foam,  and  when  I  got  back  I  got  licked  awful  for 
it.  I  tole  Marse  that  I  run  a  race  with  another  boy,  and 
he  licked  me  with  a  stirrup  strap." 

"  Did  George  and  James  come  home  all  right  ?  " 

Got  home  on  one  horse,  the  other  was  stole  from  'em 
—  robbers  stretched  a  rope  'cross  the  road,  and  they  rode 
agin  it  in  the  dark  and  they  was  robbed-  of  their  watches 


John  Meets  Trouble,  and  Faces  It  95 

and  money  and  one  horse — that  's  what  they  told  their 
father — they  was  chasing  a  horse  thief,  they  said — say?  " 

"  Well,  what  is  it  ?  " 
'  You  was  n't  one  of  the  robbers,  was  you  ? " 

"  I,  I  a  robber  ?     Who  says  I  robbed  them  ?  " 

"  George  says  so — he  saw  you  in  the  moonlight — you 
and  a  lot  of  Injuns." 

'  No,  I  did  not  rob  them,  and  I  don't  run  away.     I 
am  going  to  see  the  Colonel." 

"  What  for  ?  " 
'  To  tell  him  the  truth." 

"  Then  he  will  kill  me." 
'  But  I  will  not  mention  you." 

John  pushed  by  the  slave  boy,  on  up  past  the  house, 
and  placed  his  cattle  in  one  of  the  pens.  He  saw  no  one 
about,  so  walked  over  and  sat  down  on  the  veranda  to 
wait  for  the  Colonel.  Soon  a  step  was  heard  behind  him 
and  Margaret  came  through  the  door. 

'  This  is  Mr.  Smith,  I  believe — there  is  such  a  resem 
blance — I  hope  your  brother  is  well!  " 

John  arose  with  a  jerk,  stuttered,  bowed  twice,  sat 
down  with  a  jolt  and  said  his  brother  was  well  and  so 
were  his  sisters.  He  twirled  his  broad-brim  hat  nerv 
ously. 

"  Are  your  brothers  well  ?  "  he  asked  after  a  painful 
pause.  It  was  pure  accident — he  did  not  mean  to  men 
tion  them  at  all. 

"  Quite  well,  thank  you — it  was  a  long  trip  for  him  to 
make  alone,  and  so  young!  " 

John  did  not  get  the  import  of  the  remark,  so  he 
changed  the  subject. 

I  want  to  see  your  father — will  he  be  here  soon  ?  " 

It  was  not  necessary  for  her  to  reply.  The  one,  two, 
three,  four  of  the  Colonel's  single-footer  was  heard  on  the 


g6  Time  and  Chance 

hard   road,  and  the   next   instant  he  reined    in    at   the 
driveway. 

"  Slivers  —  you,  Jim  Slivers!  where  the  devil  is  that 
nigger  ? — Slivers  !  " 

Slivers  slid  slowly  around  the  corner  of  the  house — all 
of  a  tremble.  He  led  the  horse  away. 

'  This  is  Mr.  Smith,  Papa;  you  remember  his 
brother." 

'  What  the  devil — why,  it  's  Timothy  himself — ha, 
ha,  ha,  ha!!  " 

He  stood  the  boy  up  and  looked  him  over. 

"  It  's  Timothy  himself,  with  his  father's  shad-belly 
coat  and  a  Puritan  parson's  hat!  ha,  ha,  ha,  ha!  !  " 

In  fact  it  was  funny.  The  coat  had  long  tails  running 
down  to  a  point  behind;  the  ample  vest  buttoned  to  the 
chin ;  both  garments  were  cut  large,  in  anticipation  of 
future  growth. 

Mrs.  Silverton  stepped  out  on  the  veranda:  both  she 
and  the  daughter  looked  on  in  amazement. 

"  Sit  down,  Timothy — sit  down,  I  say — I  Ve  been 
wanting  to  see  you — Lord,  but  you  have  impudence  to 
come  straight  back  here  again  after  robbing  my  sons. 
You  Yankees  are  so  rabid  for  money  that  you  steal  from 
your  best  friends.  You  thought  you  were  not  known,  of 
course,  I  see,  but  now  I  've  got  you — George,  George, 
George  —  where  the  devil  is  that  rascal!  Here  you, 
George,  do  you  identify  this  fellow  as  one  of  the  gang 
that  robbed  you  and  stole  your  horse  ?  " 

"  He  's  the  one,"  said  George  doggedly. 

I'm  the  one  you  tried  to  rob,"  retorted  young  Brown 
with  flashing  eyes. 

'  You  lie,"  screamed  the  other,  and  as  he  spoke  he 
snatched  the  riding  whip  from  his  father's  hand  and 
made  a  savage  stroke  with  it  at  John's  face. 


97 

He  dodged  the  slash  and  sprang  to  the  ground  from 
the  piazza..  He  stripped  the  long  coat  off  in  a  twinkling. 

"  Come  on!  "  said  John  Brown,  "  come  on — here  on 

the  grass,  you  coward !  "     And  as  he  spoke  the  vest  was 

peeled  off  too.     There  he  stood,  stripped  to  the  waist. 

He  had  totally  forgotten  the  fact  that  he  wore  no  shirt. 

Why  don't  you  come  down  here,  you  coward!  " 

A  shout  of  laughter  went  up  from  the  Colonel.  It 
ended  in  a  half-suppressed  whistle  of  admiration,  in 
which  the  two  ladies  joined,  in  sentiment  at  least.  Had 
it  been  a  shirtless  man  there  in  front  of  them,  they  might 
have  thrown  their  aprons  over  their  faces  and  rushed 
into  the  house.  But  this  was  only  a  boy;  besides,  the 
thing  was  surprisingly  sudden.  His  muscles  stood  out 
like  whip-cord :  not  an  ounce  of  superfluous  tissue  was 
there :  the  flesh  was  lean  and  clean  as  ever  an  athlete 
knew.  His  shoulders  were  not  broad,  but  the  chest  was 
deep,  the  neck  strongly  corded,  and  beneath  the  pink 
skin  of  the  breast  the  muscles  twitched  in  nervous  rest 
lessness  as  he  stood  there  in  the  sunshine,  his  straight, 
short  hair  all  bristling. 

You  'd  look  better  with  a  shirt  on,"  bawled  George. 

A  blush  went  over  the  boy's  face,  it  spread  to  his  neck 
and  suffused  itself  to  his  waistband. 

Here,  my  son,  put  on  your  clothes!  " 

Mrs.  Silverton  had  stepped  down  on  the  grass  and 
picked  up  the  vest,  and  held  it  so  the  boy  could  put  it 
on.  Then  she  helped  him  to  don  the  coat.  She  turned 
to  her  husband : 

Maurice,  why  do  you  accuse  this  lad  ?  " 

Margaret  was  crying : 

'  You  are  awful  wicked,  Papa  Silverton,  and  you  too, 
George — I  don't  like  you  either  one  " — she  boohoo'd. 

John  was  now  clothed  and  partially  in  his  right  mind. 


98  Time  and  Chance 

Say  now,  Timothy  Hymnbook,  come  now  and  give 
us  the  facts.     Why  did  you  say  my  boys  tried  to  rob  you  ? ' ' 

"  Because  they  did." 

"  Now  we  will  call  them  in — they  will  tell  their  story 
and  you  tell  yours.  James,  you  James  and  George,  come 
here !  Daughter,  go  tell  the  boys  I  want  them  !  ' 

The  girl  went  into  the  house.  She  was  gone  several 
minutes,  and  then  came  back  and  reported  that  the 
boys  could  not  be  found. 

"  It  's  queer,  George  was  here  a  minute  ago,  and  you 
said  James  was  around  somewhere  ?  " 
Why,  yes." 

Slivers's  freckled  face  popped  out  from  behind  the 
door: 

"  I  know  where  they  's  gone,  Marse  Kuhnel!  I  know, 
I  do.  They  scooted !  James,  he  hide  in  the  haymow 
when  Mister  Himbooks  he  come — just  now  they  got  their 
horses  outer  the  back  barn  door  and  tole  me  they  was 
gwine  to  de  Fort  and  would  n't  be  back  for  a  week!  " 

"  Shut  up,  you  black  rascal — you  'd  talk  the  horns  off 
a  mooley  bull!  For  Heaven's  sake,  Mother,  shake  up 
them  niggers, — aint  dinner  ready  ?  " 


CHAPTER   VI 

A    LITERARY    COURTSHIP 

SOMEWAY  the  Yankee  boy  had  shifted  places  with 
the  slim,  fair-haired  daughter  of  the  Southerner. 
When  he  was  here  a  month  before  she  was  confident, 
natural,  easy ;  he  was  awkward  and  embarrassed.  Now 
she  hardly  knew  what  to  say  and  evidently  was  treating 
him  as  she  might  some  strange  young  gentleman  ;  as  her 


A  Literary  Courtship  99 

surety  of  manner  wavered,  his  returned.  He  ate  dinner 
this  time  without  choking. 

After  the  meal  the  Colonel  looked  at  the  cattle,  and 
not  needing  them  himself,  he  took  John  to  a  buyer  who 
seemed  satisfied  with  the  price  asked  and  paid  over  the 
money  at  once. 

Then  the  Colonel  took  the  young  man  down  town  and 
introduced  him  as  "  Mister  Brown  "  (for  he  had  finally 
gotten  his  name  straight),  and  casually  mentioned  that 
he  was  a  son  of  General  Owen  Brown,  an  old  friend  whom 
he  had  known  many  years,  etc.  John  was  astounded  at 
the  ease  with  which  these  white  lies  slipped  off  the 
Colonel's  tongue.  He  started  to  make  corrections,  but 
concluded  to  keep  still. 

When  the  boy  went  back  to  the  house  in  the  evening, 
he  was  a  bit  conscious  of  the  fact  that  he  wore  no  shirt. 
The  fact  of  itself  was  nothing,  but  the  fact  that  others 
knew  of  the  fact — there  was  the  rub. 

Women  divine  things:  Mrs.  Silverton  took  advantage 
of  a  moment  when  no  one  else  was  in  the  room  and  said 
smilingly : 

"  Mister  Brown,  I  believe  I  'd  like  you  better  if  you 
were  in  shirt  sleeves — that  's  the  way  our  visitors  usually 
dress.  Come  with  me  and  I  will  give  you  one  of  my  sons' 
shirts!  " 

There  was  no  time  to  reply :  he  followed  the  woman 
to  an  upper  chamber  that  she  told  him  would  be  his  room. 

It  was  a  gorgeous  apartment,  John  thought.  A  mirror 
hung  on  the  wall,  the  second  he  had  ever  seen ;  there 
were  a  comb,  a  hair  brush,  a  clothes  brush,  a  little  rocking 
chair,  and  on  the  bed  was  a  snow  white  spread.  On  the 
spread  was  a  white  shirt  which  the  woman  indicated  with 
a  wave  of  the  hand.  She  closed  the  door  and  left  him 
alone. 


ioo  Time  and  Chance 

The  lad  had  never  worn  a  "  biled  shirt,"  but  he  man 
aged  to  get  into  it.  Yet  when  he  went  down-stairs 
things  were  again  shifted — Margaret  was  composed,  and 
John  never  felt  so  out  of  place  in  his  life. 

"  Do  you  read  much,  Mister  Brown  ?  "  asked  the  girL 

"  Lots — that  is,  no,  I  don't  read  very  fast." 

"  What  books  do  you  like  best  ?  " 

"  I  don't  like  any  so  very  much — it  's  hard  work  to 
read.  But  I  read  the  Bible  'cause  we  should,  you  know : 
then  Jonathan  Edwards's  sermons  are  hard  because  the 
print  is  small,  but  I  like  Pilgrim  s  Progress  best,  I  guess, 
for  there  are  pictures  that  help." 

'  Did  you  ever  read  Plutarch's  Lives  f  ' 

"  No,  who  was  he,  an  Englishman  ? " 

"  Oh,  no,  he  was  a  Greek  who  lived  hundreds  and 
hundreds  of  years  ago." 

"  But  folks  did  n't  know  much  then — they  were  all 
barbarians,  but  the  Jews,  and  they  would  have  been,  too, 
but  God  looked  after  them." 

The  Greeks  were  not  barbarians!  " 

'''  I  always  thought  they  were  the  same  as  Injuns — our 
preacher  said  so!  " 

"  Oh,  no,  they  were  just  as  enlightened  as  we  are  to 
day — and  so  were  the  Romans." 

'  You  don't  say!  " 

'  Yes,   Plutarch  compares  a  Greek  with  a  Roman- 
shall  I  read  to  you  ?  " 
If  you  don't  mind." 

So  the  girl  read — right  straight  off — without  even  tra 
cing  the  line  across  with  her  finger.  It  was  about  Csesar, 
and  John  was  wonderfully  interested. 

But  why  did  they  kill  him  ?  "  he  asked  with  flashing 
eyes. 

4  Why,  people  always  kill  other  folks  who  are  in  their 


A  Literary  Courtship  101 

way — they  have  to,  I  s'pose,  or  there  could  not  be  any 
government." 

''  I  wish  I  'd  lived  then — I  would  have  taken  his  part!  " 
'  But  brave  men  are  needed  now  as  much  as  then." 
"  Oh,  I  don't  think  so — there  is  nothing  now  but  farm 
ing  and  buying  things  and  selling  them  again." 

"  Oh,  I  'm  sure  that  men  make  their  own  oppor 
tunities." 

'  It  don't  seem  so  to  me." 

'  Well,  are  you  always  just  going  to  farm  and  drive 
cows  ? " 

'  Why,  no,  but  father  says  young  people  always  pro 
pose  doing  great  things,  but  in  a  few  years  they  just 
settle  down  and  farm  it." 

If  I  were  a  man,  I  would  want  to  think  and  act  so  I 
could  influence  other  men — make  them  better." 
And  I  intend  to !  " 

Oh,  I  am  glad — you  seem  to  me  just  like   one   of 
those  heroes  we  read  of  in  books." 

John  had  never  heard  much  of  book  heroes  or  any 
other  kind,  and  his  egotism  was  so  small  that  the  naive 
frankness  of  the  remark  was  lost  on  him.  Yet  he  was 
filled  with  a  restless,  chaotic  ambition  to  do  something 
and  to  be  something.  And  here  at  last  was  a  being  who 
sympathized  with  him.  He  was  all  aglow.  He  leaned 
forward  in  his  chair  and  said : 

Yes,  yes,  I  will  be  somebody  yet — do  you  know  what 
I  am  going  to  do  ?  " 

'  Why,  no;  tell  me,  please.  " 

"  No  one  knows  it  but  Ruth  and  little  Rachel!  " 
"  Indeed!  " 

Not  even  my  father!  " 
'  But  won't  he  object  ?  " 
I  don't  think  so." 


IO2  Time  and  Chance 

'  No  one  must  know  it  just  yet." 
"  I  '11  never  tell." 
'  Well,  I  Ve  had  a  call." 
' '  A  what !  ' ' 

"  A  call — a  call  to  preach  the  Gospel." 
"  And  who  has  called  you  ?  " 
"  The  Lord." 
The  girl  started  in  a  half-frightened  manner. 

Do  you  mean  that  you  are  going  to  be  a  preacher  ?" 
'  Yes,  are  n't  you  glad  ? "  asked  John  after  a  pause. 
"  Not   very — that  is,   yes — but   if  it    were    a    priest    I 
would  n't  care." 

"Catholic?     Never!" 

"  Oh,  no — the  Church,  Church  of  England." 
"  What  's  that  ?" 
'  Episcopal." 

'  Why,  they  are  people  who  do  that  which  they  ought 
not  and  leave  undone  the  things  which  they  should  have 
done!  " 

"  I  s'pose  so — I  'm  one." 

'  Impossible!  you  should  not  jest  on  sacred  subjects. 
But  next  month  I  'm  going  to  start  back  for  Connecticut 
to  study  for  a  preacher  with  a  minister  Ruth  knows — 
that  is  if  father  is  willing — I  never  talked  with  him  yet 
about  it — he  's  so  busy,  you  know." 

The  Silvertons  were  zealous  members  of  the  Episcopal 
Church;  they  never  attended  any  other,  and  looked  on 
all  preachers  of  other  denominations  as  fanatical  dis 
pensers  of  gloom. 

In  that  isolated  life  far  removed  from  the  dissipation 
of  great  cities  were  two  spirits:  the  joyous  and  the  sul 
len.  The  happy  people  who  sang  the  carols  out  under 
the  twinkling  stars;  and  the  oppressed,  revolting,  pro 
testing  folks.  The  negative  spirit  that  continually 


A  Literary  Courtship  103 

dinned  "  Thou  shalt  not,"  and  the  affirmative  spirit  of 
youth  whose  feet  delighted  in  keeping  time  to  merry 
music:  the  spirit  of  fasting  and  the  spirit  of  feasting;  of 
droning  prayers  and  joyous  mirth. 

The  Silvertons  did  not  know  that  these  two  spirits 
were  often  found  in  one  person  ;  they  knew  the  faults  and 
the  extremes  of  Puritanism,  but  they  did  not  know  its 
virtues.  In  fact  it  scarcely  dawned  on  them  that  it  could 
possess  merit  in  any  appreciable  degree. 

"  Oh  dear — if  you  are  a  preacher,  you  will  never 
dance!  " 

11  Never!" 

"  Nor  play  cards." 

"  I  pray  I  never  shall!  " 

"  Nor  listen  to  music." 

"  Only  sacred  music!  " 

"  All  good  music  is  sacred  music,  our  rector  says." 

"  Fiddle  music  cannot  be." 

"  Oh  dear,  oh  dear,  I  can't  argue.  But  mamma  and  I 
thought  you  were — that  is,  peculiar  of  course — but  some 
thing  like  King  Arthur!  Oh  dear,  and  you  are  going  to 
be  only  a  Puritan  preacher!  " 

John  was  getting  very  much  confused.  He  kind  of 
half  recalled  King  Arthur  as  a  Bible  character,  but  still 
he  could  not  place  him,  so  he  did  not  know  whether  he 
was  good  or  bad.  And  as  for  being  a  preacher,  what 
nobler  aim,  what  higher  ambition  ?  The  only  educated 
men  he  ever  knew  were  preachers :  education  and 
preaching  were  one  and  the  same.  The  world  was  divided 
into  common  folks  and  preachers.  He  aspired  to  be  a 
preacher :  Ruth  wished  him  to  be,  and  prophesied  that 
he  would  be  a  great  success ;  and  as  for  little  Rachel,  she 
clapped  her  hands  every  time  it  was  mentioned,  and  she 
was  ten  years  old  going  on  'leven. 


IO4  Time  and  Chance 

Why  anyone  should  object  to  a  profession  that  was 
devoted  to  making  men  better,  he  could  not  imagine. 

Of  course  a  man  might  mistake  his  "  call  ";  possibly 
Jedediah  Judson  had,  but  that  was  not  the  question. 
The  profession  itself  was  the  highest  and  most  exalted 
to  which  mortal  man  could  aspire.  It  was  doing  the 
work  of  God. 

He  tried  to  explain  these  things  to  Margaret,  but  be 
fore  he  had  gotten  through  the  firstly  of  his  argument, 
Mrs.  Silverton  came  in  and  sat  down  at  the  harpsichord. 

She  seemed  rather  sad,  John  thought.  She  played 
gently  as  if  merely  testing  the  instrument,  and  then  the 
tones  gradually  merged  into  "  Rock  of  Ages."  It  was 
the  most  entrancing,  heavenly  music  the  boy  had  ever 
heard.  He  sat  with  open  mouth,  and  the  sweet  strains 
wrapped  him  round  as  a  garment.  The  presence  of  the 
young  girl  opposite  him,  sitting  with  closed  eyes;  the 
dim  twilight  of  the  room ;  and  the  music  such  as  he  had 
never  heard,  moved  him  to  tears. 

Then  the  mother  and  daughter  sang,  not  hymns,  but 
still  songs  such  as  the  angels  in  Heaven  might  sing,  John 
thought. 

After  a  while  Mrs.  Silverton  lighted  a  candle,  and  ex 
cusing  herself  by  saying,  "  you  must  be  very  tired," 
started  him  off  for  bed. 

He  was  in  a  half  trance  of  sublime  delight.  He  moved 
up-stairs  without  saying  a  word :  it  seemed  as  though  he 
were  lifted  from  off  the  earth  and  was  being  carried  to 
another  realm.  His  sensitive  soul  had  been  saturated 
with  the  delight  of  sweet  sounds  and  his  mind  was  in  a 
state  of  dreamy  forgetfulness.  He  entered  the  little  cham 
ber,  snuffed  the  candle  out  so  as  to  be  alone  with  his 
thoughts,  and  sat  down  at  the  open  window.  The 
moon's  silver  rays  slanted  in  over  all,  and  as  he  sat 


A  Literary  Courtship  105 

there  he  lived  over  again  the  experiences  of  the  even 
ing. 

That  Margaret  should  have  read  for  him,  for  him,  and 
sung  for  him,  and  that  her  mother  should  have  done  the 
same !  that  they  should  have  wished  him  good-night ! 
Then  he  tried  to  recall  each  particular  word  that  Mar 
garet  had  spoken,  and  the  expression  of  her  face  as  she 
voiced  it.  He  did  not  think  of  going  to  bed — the  ex 
quisite  delight  of  his  sensations  made  sleep  out  of  the 
question — so  he  sat  and  thought  and  he  seemed  to  be 
lifted  and  floating  away,  away,  away!  But  there  was  a 
touch  of  pain  in  it  all — Margaret  did  not  wish  him  to  be 
a  preacher — possibly  the  Lord  was  speaking  through  her! 
why  not  ?  such  beauty,  and  honesty,  and  innocence,  and 
intelligence — surely,  why  should  not  God  speak  through 
Margaret  Silverton! 

He  had  fallen  asleep  as  he  sat  there.  How  long  he 
slept  he  did  not  know.  He  felt  chilly- — was  someone  call 
ing  ?  A  little  shower  of  sand  fell  on  the  roof  of  the 
veranda  near  the  window. 

He  leaned  his  hands  on  the  sill  and  looked  out — no  one 
in  sight. 

"  Come  down,  John,  I  must  tell  you  somethin' !  " 

The  whispering  voice  seemed  to  come  from  an  ever 
green  tree  twenty  feet  away. 

Come  down — it  's  me — Jim  Slivers!  " 

"  Well,  tell  me,  then!  "  spoke  John  in  an  undertone. 
I  can't  from  here — come  down  quick!  " 

John  Brown  slipped  off  his  shoes,  stepped  out  on  the 
roof  of  the  piazza,  and  feeling  with  his  feet  for  a  pillar, 
slid  softly  down  to  the  ground. 


io6  Time  and  Chance 

CHAPTER  VII 

A   HORSE-BACK   RIDE   THROUGH    THE   WOODS 


back  here  in  the  bushes  —  I  must  tell  you, 
quick!  " 

John  followed  the  slave  boy  through  the  dewy  grass 
to  a  small  clump  of  trees  a  hundred  yards  off. 

I   'm  running  away,"  said    Slivers.     He  held  up  a 
bundle  tied  in  a  bandana  hankerchief. 
'  Why,  what  's  the  matter  ?  " 

'  Marse,  he  sold  me,  they  're  goin'  to  send  me  to  the 
cotton  fields." 
"  Why  ?" 

"  Marse,  he  says  I  played  off  —  hid  in  the  weeds  and 
don't  do  my  work  —  then  I  raced  his  horse.  He  's  jest 
mad,  that  's  all,  so  he  's  sold  me.  I  'm  goin'  with  you 
•  —  I  '11  meet  you  at  the  Gorge  to-morrow  noon-  —  you 
know  the  place  ?  I  must  git  there  'fore  daylight  an'  wait 
till  you  come." 

"  Slivers,  you  must  not." 

But  you  said  there  was  no  slaves  'mong  your  folks!  " 
'  True,  but  you  are  someone's  property;  the  Bible 
says,  thou  shalt  not  steal;  they  have  already  accused  me 
of  stealing  a  horse  !  No,  no,  I  cannot  help  you  to  run 
away.  Here  is  five  dollars,  now  just  stay  —  the  cotton 
fields  are  all  right.  If  you  behave  and  work  you  will  be 
treated  well,  for  you  will  be  valuable  to  your  new  owner 
—he  can't  afford  to  hurt  you  !  " 

"  Niggers  are  only  good  to  wear  out  —  that  's    what 
they  have  'em  on  a  plantation  for.     I  'm  goin'  with  you 
where  folks  is  free  —  I  '11  meet  you  at  the  Gorge!  " 
Slivers  slipped  away  into  the  bushes. 
'  Hold  on  there,  Jim.     Come  back!  " 


A  Horse-back  Ride  Through  the  Woods    107 

John  tried  to  follow ;  the  boy  was  gone.  Should  he  go 
too  ?  Why  not  ?  but  no,  for  them  to  disappear  together, 
this  would  never  do.  The  damp  boughs  brushed  against 
his  face  as  he  picked  his  way  back  towards  the  house ; 
his  feet  were  wet  with  the  heavy  dew.  He  started  to 
climb  the  pillar,  and  as  he  did  so  two  big  dogs  came  tear 
ing  around  the  corner  of  the  house;  but  he  was  safely 
beyond  their  reach.  He  climbed  in  the  window,  and  as 
he  went  to  bed  he  heard  Colonel  Silverton  at  the  door 
below  endeavoring  to  quiet  the  barking  dogs. 

John  slept  late  the  next  morning;  when  he  came 
down-stairs  breakfast  was  awaiting  him. 

A  colored  girl  waited  on  the  table — she  was  a  sister  of 
Jim  Slivers,  sure.  She  was  nearly  white,  had  blue  eyes 
and  red  hair.  At  first  glance  John  thought  it  was  Jim 
in  petticoats.  He  was  prepared  for  almost  anything  in 
the  way  of  metamorphoses ;  he  realized  that  even  within 
himself  great  changes  had  taken  place  since  he  came  to 
Silverside. 

Margaret  was  beautiful,  but  hardly  as  beautiful  as  she 
was  the  evening  before:  something  seemed  to  trouble 
her.  Mrs.  Silverton's  paleness  was  hardly  so  becoming: 
her  eyes  were  red,  as  if  she  had  been  crying.  In  fact 
they  were  not  angels  at  all,  just  beautiful  women — which 
was  a  deal  better. 

The  Colonel  ate  fast  and  was  preoccupied :  evidently 
computing  in  his  mind  how  much  the  profits  would  be  on 
eleven  steers,  when  slaughtered,  the  meat  packed  in  barrels 
and  sold  to  the  Government,  and  the  hides  to  the  tanner. 

These  were  all  excellent  people,  of  course,  and  John 
was  having  a  good  time,  but  still  he  was  anxious  to  get 
away  alone,  on  the  road  for  home,  so  he  could  figure  out 
just  who  he  was,  and  what  he  proposed  to  do.  Every 
thing  was  in  a  sort  of  whirl. 


io8  Time  and  Chance 

The  Colonel  pushed  his  chair  back,  flourished  his  nap 
kin  and  said  to  the  colored  girl: 

"  Molly,  send  Jim  in,  I  want  to  see  him!  " 

The  floor  began  to  go  up  and  down,  the  ceiling  settled, 
and  John  Brown  swallowed  hard  and  clutched  his  chair 
awaiting  the  crash. 

"  So  you  are  going  to  start  for  home  this  morning  ?  " 
said  Mrs.  Silverton. 

'  Ye-ye-yes,"  said  John  from  out  between  his  clenched 
teeth.  He  felt  the  strain  growing  less,  and  knew  that  in  a 
few  moments  he  would  be  himself  and  ready  for  the  blast. 
'  I  can't  find  him,  Marse  Silverton !  "  said  the  girl  as 
she  appeared  in  the  doorway,  after  five  minutes  had 
gone  by. 

A  cold  wave  dashed  over  John  Brown — he  held  his 
breath. 

"  Never  mind  now,  anyway — oh,  I  say  Smith —  " 

"  Brown!  "  said  John,  nerving  himself  for  the  worst. 

"  I  mean  Brown;  now,  Brown,  we  were  speaking  yes 
terday  when  you  first  come,  about  a  horse — a  horse  that 
strayed  away — horses  will  stray  away,  you  know  ?  Well, 
you  are  a  little  hasty  tempered  and  in  your  anger  accused 
my  sons  of  trying  to  rob  you — of  course,  you  did  not 
mean  that — they  only  tried  to  scare  you.  They  are  like 
all  spirited  young  men,  fond  of  a  little  joke,  they  are 
sowing  their  wild  oats  and  will  be  the  better  for  it.  Now, 
Brown,  you  are  a  good  fellow :  tell  us  honest,  now,  they 
just  tried  to  scare  you,  did  n't  they  ?  " 

John  looked  towards  Margaret.  She  was  gazing  on 
him  with  great,  big,  open  eyes,  beseeching  eyes. 

'  That 's  all — they  only  tried  to  frighten  me, "  said  John. 
'  What  did  I  tell  you  ?  "  said  Colonel  Silverton,  turn 
ing  to  his  wife. 

The  lady  gave  a  sigh  of  relief  and  the   pained   look 


A  Horse-back  Ride  Through  the  Woods    109 

seemed  to  go  from  her  face.     Margaret  sighed  too ;  then 
John  sighed,  and  all  felt  better. 
"  Now,  Mr.  Smith—  " 
"  Brown,"  said  John. 

'  Now,  Mr.  Brown,"  continued  the  Colonel,  "  about 
that  missing  horse,  of  course  I  know  that  you  did  not 
take  it,  but  if  by  any  chance  you  know  where  it  is,  why 
simply  tell  me  and  no  harm  shall  come  to  you  in  any 
event.  You  are  a  fine,  honest  young  fellow  and  no  mat 
ter  who  says  to  the  contrary,  we  believe  in  you.  Now 
tell  me,  do  you  know  where  that  horse  is  ?  " 
"  Yes. 

Well,  where  is  it  ?  " 
"Twelve  miles  north  of  here." 

Will  you  show  me  that  horse,  on  my  promise  not  to 
ask  you  a  single  further  question,  or  bother  you  in  any 
way  about  it  ?  " 

I  will  show  you  the  horse." 

'  That  's  good — Molly  !  Molly,  tell  Jim — oh,  you  can't 
find  him,  eh !  well,  call  Tom — he  is  working  in  the  gar 
den.     Tell  Tom  to  saddle  Miss  Nancy  and  Trusty." 
'  Yes,  Marse  Silverton." 
The  girl  disappeared. 

So  we  will  not  see  you  again  soon,"  said  Mrs.  Silver- 
ton,  as  they  moved  out  onto  the  piazza. 

No,  I  start  for  home  at  once." 

"  Can't   Mr.   Brown  take   the  Plutarch,  Mamma  ?     I 
know  he  will  enjoy  it!  " 

Why  certainly ;  then  he  will  have  to  come  again  to 
bring  it  back,"  smiled  the  lady. 

Here  are  the  horses:  now,  Brown,  let  's  go!  " 
You  remember  what  you  promised — not  to  trouble 
him  in  anyway!"  said  Mrs.  Silverton  in  an  undertone, 
laying  a  hand  on  her  husband's  arm. 


no  Time  and  Chance 

:<  I  remember,  and  I  promise  you!  " 

Each  of  the  ladies  shook  hands  with  John  :  he  mounted 
the  roan  mare  :  Margaret  handed  him  the  Plutarch  Lives. 

11  Oh,  I  forgot,  I  will  need  a  halter,  won't  I,  Brown  ?  " 
asked  the  Colonel,  one  foot  in  the  stirrup. 

"  What  for  ?" 

"  Why  to  lead  that  horse  back." 

"  Take  the  halter  if  you  wish." 

"  Here  you,  Tom,  fetch  a  halter  quick — don't  keep  us 
waiting  all  day!  " 

Tom  brought  the  halter  and  the  two  horsemen  rode 
away. 

They  turned  into  the  main  road  that  ran  down  the  hill, 
and  just  before  they  reached  a  clump  of  trees  that  hid  the 
house  from  view,  John  looked  back.  Margaret  stood  on 
the  veranda  watching  them.  John  held  up  the  Plutarch 
and  the  girl  waved  her  handkerchief  as  a  last  farewell. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

THE  RIDE   EVOLVES   INTO   A   HORSE-RACE 

TWO  miles  out  of  town  John  reined  the  roan  mare 
into  the  bushes,  and  lifted  a  flannel  shirt  from  off  a 
hickory  limb — but  did  not  go  near  the  water.  He  rolled 
the  book  up  in  the  garment,  tied  the  bundle  around  with 
a  strip  of  bark,  and  with  a  longer  withe  strung  it  around 
his  shoulder.  Then  they  rode  forward. 

The  Colonel  tried  to  be  affable,  but  subjects  to  discuss 
were  scarce.  Their  minds  did  not  belong  to  the  same 
stratum.  One  was  practical,  alert  and  alive  to  all  present 
things;  the  other  was  dreamy,  abstracted,  theoretical. 
One  was  interested  in  Zanesville,  the  other  in  heaven  and 
earth  and  the  waters  under  the  earth. 


The  Ride  Evolves  into  a  Horse- Race       ill 

But  as  they  floundered  about  for  a  mutual  theme  they 
struck  "  pay  gravel." 

"  Your  folks  don't  own  slaves  ?  "  said  Colonel  Silver- 
ton  with  an  upward  accent. 

"  No,  I  believe  they  did  once  though,  before  I  was 
born." 

'  Why  did  they  quit  ?  " 

"  There  's  a  feeling  against  it  in  Connecticut. " 
"  But  they  don't  think  it  's  wicked,  do  they  ?  " 
"  Oh,  no,  not  exactly  wicked.     Still  my  father  says  he 
does  not  care  to  buy  and  sell  men." 
11  Well,  that  's  just  where  I  stand." 
"  Don't  you  buy  and  sell  slaves  ?  " 

No,  I  sold  all  I  had  but  half  a  dozen,  for  good  and 
all,  when  I  moved  from  Virginia." 

"  And  you  intend  never  to  sell  these  you  now  own  ?  " 
"  Of  course  not." 
"  Hem!" 

'  What  do  you  mean  by  that  noise  ?  " 
"  Nothing." 

'  You  might  as  well  speak  out!  " 
'  Well,  Jim  Slivers  told  me  last  night  that  you    had 
sold  him !  " 
"  Oh,  he  lies." 
No,  he  was  in  earnest." 

Well,  I  did  threaten  it.    He  is  a  lazy  dog:  I  just  had 
a  man  look  him  over  and  bargain  for  him,  to  scare  him." 
"  Is  that  all  ?" 

'  Yes ;  and  another  thing,  I  seldom  punish  my  slaves 
—I  don't  believe  in  it.  You  see  it  's  just  plain  common 
sense  to  treat  your  live  stock  well.  If  they  are  happy 
they  do  good  work.  You  was  out  in  my  quarters,  was  n't 
you — No  ?  Well,  they  are  treated  as  well  as  my  own 
folks.  In  fact,  they  are  just  one  big  happy  family.  Of 


H2  Time  and  Chance 

course  I  make  them  work — that  's  for  their  health — and 
I  see  that  they  are  clothed  and  fed  and  that  their  houses 
are  clean  and  comfortable.  Heaps  of  white  folks  'bout 
here  don't  get  as  good  a  living  as  my  slaves." 

"  I  s'pose  so,  yet  the  white  folks  are  free." 
'  You  know  your  father  owns  you  until  you  are  twenty- 
one  ?  " 

"  But  he  can't  sell  me." 

"  No,  but  you  are  obliged  to  work  for  him  and  do  what 
he  says.  Now  I  do  not  want  to  sell  my  slaves  any  more 
than  your  father  wants  to  sell  you.  And  instead  of  my 
letting  them  go  when  they  are  twenty-one,  I  keep  them 
and  take  care  of  them  until  they  die." 

"  But  suppose  you  should  die." 

"  Oh,  my  wife  and  boys  would  then  treat  them  just  as 
well  as  I  do  now." 

'  What  if  you  should  get  in  debt,  so  you  would  be 
obliged  to  sell  them?  " 

"  Well,  that  's  out  of  the  question." 

"  Do  they  ever  run  away  ?  " 

'''  I  never  had  a  slave  run  away  yet — treat  'em  well  and 
they  '11  stay.  But  are  n't  we  getting  near  where  that 
horse  is  ?  " 

"  Not  far  now.  " 

'  You  know  the  law — take  your  own  wherever  you 
find  it  ?" 

"  Of  course." 

"  Lord !  something  smells  mighty  strong  around  here." 

"  Rather  so — follow  me." 

John  reined  his  horse  to  the  right  into  the  thicket. 

The  other  followed. 
'  There  's  your  horse,  Colonel  Silverton." 

Before  them  lay  the  bloated  body  of  the  dead  horse. 

The  Colonel  turned  several  colors.     John  thought  he 


The  Ride  Evolves  into  a  Horse-Race       113 

was  going  to  have  an  apoplectic  fit :  he  tried  to  speak  but 
only  gurgled.  Then  he  turned  and  rode  out  to  the  road. 
"  Brown,  you  deserve  a  dam  good  thrashing,  and  if 
you  was  a  man  you  'd  get  it.  You  're  the  first  fellow 
that  ever  got  the  start  of  me.  Now,  why  have  you 
played  me  this  trick  ?  " 

'  Well,  Colonel,  for  several  reasons.     Your  sons  tried 
to  scare  me,  you  say  ?  " 
"  Yes." 

'  Well,  instead  of  their  scaring  me,  I  scared  them." 
But  the  horse  ?  " 

I  tied  a  rope  across  the  road  and  let  them  run  their 
horses  over  it.     This  horse  got  its  neck  broke." 
"  But  you  had  no  business  to  do  that." 

Your  sons  had  no  business  being  here —  " 
John  had  dismounted  and  had  passed  his  bridle  rein 
to  the  other. 

Well,  I  have  no  time  to  argue,  and  I  promised  you, 
and  promised  my  wife  I  'd  not  trouble  you,  and  I  won't 
— good  day!  " 

Hold  on  ;  you  pull  out  under  those  trees  down  below 
and  wait  a  few  minutes — I  will  show  you  something  that 
will  please  you." 

The  Colonel  was  mystified,  but  he  walked  his  horse 
down  toward  the  trees,  leading  the  roan  mare  behind. 
John  walked  on  to  the  Gorge,  that  was  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  ahead. 

In  fifteen  minutes  he  returned,  leading  by  the  hand 
Jim  Slivers.  The  Colonel  had  taken  the  horses  to  a  little 
open  space  under  the  trees  and  was  letting  them  graze. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  tell  who  was  the  most  surprised, 
Colonel  Silverton  or  Jim  Slivers,  at  the  sight  of  each 
other. 

He  ran  away,  Colonel,  he  thought  you  'd  sold  him, 


H4  Time  and  Chance 

but  of  course  you  did  n't;  you  were  only  trying  to 
frighten  him — everybody  seems  to  be  trying  to  frighten 
someone  nowadays.  Now,  Jim,  go  back  with  your 
master  quietly — he  has  promised  me  he  will  never  sell 
you." 

Jim  began  to  cry.  He  wept  like  a  baby,  but  on  the 
Colonel's  promise  not  to  punish  him,  and  not  to  sell  him, 
he  agreed  to  go.  In  fact  it  was  the  only  thing  to  do. 

The  stirrups  of  the  saddle  were  taken  up  two  holes, 
and  Jim  mounted  the  mare.  John  shook  hands  with 
both  master  and  boy ;  and  they  rode  off  on  a  fox  trot 
side  by  side. 

John  started  for  the  north  on  his  long  walk.  He 
reached  the  Gorge,  and  two  miles  beyond  came  to  the 
Indian  village. 

Old  Chief  Blackfoot  sat  on  a  log  sunning  himself, 
smoking  in  stolid  bliss. 

"  Ugh!     Little  Blue,  how,  how!  " 

They  shook  hands  and  Little  Blue  sat  down  on  the  log 
beside  the  red  man.  The  chief  passed  the  pipe  to  the 
boy,  who  made  pretense  of  taking  a  few  whiffs  and  then 
handed  the  pipe  back. 

They  sat  quiet  without  saying  a  word,  which  is  the 
way  an  Indian  visits.  On  the  whole  the  plan  is  to  be  rec 
ommended,  but  this  time  it  was  spoiled  by  strange, 
rumbling,  thundering  sounds  that  suddenly  broke  on 
the  ear. 

Louder,  louder  they  grew.  All  at  once  out  of  the 
archway  of  trees  that  covered  the  roadway  to  the  south, 
shot  a  running  horse. 

It  was  the  roan  mare.  Fifty  yards  behind  was  the 
thoroughbred  horse,  Trusty.  Both  horses  were  running 
at  their  very  best.  They  went  by  like  a  flash,  but  the 
roan  was  ahead  and  easily  kept  the  lead,  for  Jim  Slivers 


The  Winner  Wins  Horse  and  Freedom     115 

weighed  but  a  hundred  pounds,  while  Colonel  Silverton 
weighed  twice  that,  and  was  not  used  to  the  pace. 

They  disappeared  as  the  road  curved  gently  to  the  east 
around  a  hill. 

The  clatter  of  the  pounding  hoofs  died  away  before 
John  turned  his  staring  eyes  toward  the  Indian,  who  sat 
calmly  smoking. 

One  might  have  supposed  that  thoroughbred  horses 
racing  at  breakneck  speed  went  past  every  few  minutes, 
from  the  calm  indifference  of  the  Chief. 

"  Did  you  see  'em  ?  "  excitedly  asked  John  Brown. 

"  Ugh — dam — they  go  heap  quick!  !  " 


CHAPTER    IX 

THE   WINNER   WINS   A   HORSE   AND    HIS   FREEDOM 

PURITANS  are  not  given  to  horse-racing.  When 
they  have  a  "  Punkin  Show  "  in  New  England  it  is 
a  genuine  affair,  but  a  pumpkin  show  in  the  South  and 
West  only  veils  a  "  hoss-race." 

The  modern  Agricultural  Horse  Trot  has  been  evolved 
as  a  social  necessity  for  the  benefit  of  people,  who,  not 
that  they  love  the  pumpkin  less,  but  that  they  love  the 
horse-race  more,  require  it. 

John  Brown  dearly  loved  animals  and  the  proud 
strength  and  beauty  of  a  horse  was  to  him  a  delight. 

That  the  roan  mare  was  ahead  and  likely  to  hold  her 
lead  gave  him  the  keenest  satisfaction.  He  saw  that 
Slivers  rose  in  his  stirrups  and  leaned  over  Miss  Nancy's 
neck.  He  also  noticed  that  Slivers  carried  a  switch  and 
did  not  use  it;  while  the  Colonel's  riding  whip  was  not 
for  show,  for  at  every  stride  it  was  cracking  merrily 
around  the  stifle  of  the  straining  Trusty. 


n6  Time  and  Chance 

Evidently  Slivers  was  saving  the  mare. 

John  turned  to  the  Indian,  and  forgetting  the  instruc 
tions  of  his  youth,  would  have  laid  a  bet  with  the  Chief 
on  the  roan,  but  the  Indian  had  no  interest  in  the  race, 
and  worse,  no  money.  The  lad  started  in  the  direction 
of  the  fleeing  horsemen  at  a  rapid  pace.  Why  did  he  go? 

He  did  n't  know.  Perhaps  he  wished  to  see  which 
won;  perhaps  he  thought  he  might  be  of  use  to  one  or 
the  other  of  the  contestants,  or  possibly  he  felt  that  he 
himself  was  directly  concerned  in  the  issue,  but  probably 
his  emotions  were  a  mixture  of  all  these  elements. 

Before  he  had  gone  a  half  mile  he  discovered  that  his 
pace  was  too  fast.  He  was  coming  to  his  senses  a  bit : 
he  could  not  hope  to  overtake  those  race  horses  unless 
they  stopped,  and  if  they  turned  back  he  could  head 
them  off  in  one  place  as  well  as  another.  And  he  also 
knew  this  fact,  that  a  man  on  foot,  who  is  used  to  walk 
ing,  can  go  a  hundred  miles  as  quickly  as  a  man  on 
horseback.  This  being  so,  if  they  all  kept  on,  they 
would  arrive  at  Hudson  about  the  same  time. 

The  tracks  in  the  road  showed  plainly  that  the  horses 
had  still  run  fast :  in  a  mile  they  had  eased  down  to  a 
gallop.  The  trapper's  eye  that  had  followed  trails  knew 
the  speed  at  which  they  had  passed,  but  he  could  not 
tell  whether  it  was  fifty  yards,  one  hundred  yards  or  ten 
feet  that  separated  the  riders. 

Two  miles  more  and  one  set  of  tracks  turned  to  the 
left  on  a  side  road  that  ran  over  the  hill. 

The  roan  mare  had  kept  straight  ahead ;  Trusty  had 
given  up  the  race  and  turned  for  home  by  the  East  Road. 

John  sat  down  and  could  have  cried.  He  hoped  to 
see  Colonel  Silverton  and  explain  that  he  had  had  nothing 
to  do  with  Slivers's  running  away.  He  was  bewildered. 

As  he  sat  there  on  a  bowlder  that  marked  the  fork  of 


The  Winner  Wins  Horse  and  Freedom     117 

the  road,  his  eye  glanced  on  a  fluttering  bit  of  paper  that 
was  held  by  a  split  stick  driven  into  the  ground.  John 
wondered  that  he  had  not  seen  it  before.  He  stepped 
over  and  took  the  paper.  It  was  a  leaf  torn  from  a 
pocket  note  book.  He  unfolded  the  paper  and  scrawled 
across  it  were  these  words : 

JOHN  SMITH 

of  Hudson: 

You  have  fooled  me  by  your  Yankee  tricks,  but  I  will  get 
even  with  you  yet.  You  enticed  my  boy  Jim  to  run  away — 
then  you  got  me  to  go  with  you  on  pretence  of  finding  my  horse. 
You  rode  my  valuable  race  mare  and  gave  her  over  to  the 
nigger.  I  will  catch  you  yet.  When  my  sons  said  you  was  a 
horse  thief,  they  told  the  truth.  Dam  all  Yanks. 

M.   SILVERTON. 

This  was  scratched  off  so  hastily  that  it  took  John 
several  minutes  to  make  it  out,  and  even  then  he  did  not 
get  the  sense  of  it. 

He  jammed  the  paper  into  his  pocket  and  started 
ahead.  Only  one  idea  possessed  him  now:  that  was  to 
overtake  the  slave  boy  and  prevail  upon  him  to  take  the 
horse  back  at  once.  And,  if  necessary,  he  would  return 
the  horse  and  boy  himself.  It  was  well  toward  the 
middle  of  the  afternoon  when  John  stopped  at  a  settler's 
cabin  that  stood  back  in  a  clearing.  They  had  seen  a 
boy  on  a  roan  horse  go  by,  but  it  was  fully  two  hours 
before.  Evidently  Slivers  was  going  to  put  as  many 
miles  between  himself  and  Zanesville  as  possible. 

In  his  excitement  John  had  forgotten  about  dinner, 
and  this  with  the  excitement  of  the  day  before  and  the 
sleepless  night,  now  told  on  him  to  such  an  extent  that 
he  was  feeling  faint.  He  decided  to  remain  at  the 
settler's  until  the  next  morning. 


n8  Time  and  Chance 

Before  the  morrow's  sun  appeared  he  was  again  on  his 
way.  The  tracks  of  the  mare  could  still  be  made  out, 
but  no  one  had  seen  the  horse  and  rider:  evidently  they 
were  traveling  by  night. 

A  passing  shower  came  sweeping  over  the  woods,  but 
John  trudged  on  regardless  of  wet;  and  the  rain  had 
made  it  impossible  to  know  whether  the  roan  mare  was 
still  moving  northward  or  not. 

But  as  he  walked  he  saw  something  in  the  roadway 
that  attracted  his  attention.  He  turned  back  to  ex 
amine  it  closer:  it  was  a  yellow  marble  lying  on  a  large, 
flat,  green  basswood  leaf.  The  boy  picked  up  the  mar 
ble — it  was  the  identical  one  he  had  given  to  Slivers  on 
his  first  visit  to  Zanesville. 

Half  a  mile  farther  on  he  saw  a  small  stone  on  a  broad 
green  leaf  just  as  the  marble  had  been  placed.  And  so 
at  intervals  of  about  a  mile  were  these  signs  that  Slivers 
had  left. 

But  why  did  he  not  wait  for  his  friend  and  offer  him  a 
ride  ? 

The  reason  to  John  was  plain  :  Slivers  was  afraid  that 
if  John  Brown  should  catch  up  with  him  he  would  send 
him  back,  and  so  he  kept  steadily  in  advance,  and  at 
every  mile  he  placed  in  the  middle  of  the  road  a  round 
stone  on  a  green  leaf. 

At  nightfall  on  the  third  day  John  found  the  last 
broad  basswood  leaf  held  to  the  earth  by  a  pebble. 

One  mile  more  and  the  outskirts  of  the  village  were 
reached,  and  there  in  the  twilight  by  the  roadside  sat 
Jim  Slivers,  holding  the  bridle  rein  of  the  roan  mare. 
He  had  arrived  just  a  half  hour  ahead  of  his  friend. 

'  You  won't  send  me  back — they  '11  kill  me  now — you 
won't  send  me  back,  will  you  ?  " 
Not  to-night,  anyway." 


The  Winner  Wins  Horse  and  Freedom     119 

The  mare  was  thin  and  gaunt  and  the  boy's  appearance 
showed  that  he  was  near  starvation. 

John  waited  until  dark  and  then  led  the  horse  straight 
to  his  father's  stable,  where  the  tired  racer  was  given 
feed  and  a  comfortable  stall  with  a  good  straw  bed.  In 
this  straw  the  worn  out  slave  boy  was  also  deposited. 

Then  John  went  to  Ruth's.  Little  Rachel  was  abed, 
and  John  only  told  the  woman  that  a  tired  and  hungry 
traveler  was  in  the  stable,  and  straightway  she  packed 
in  a  basket  more  food  than  two  men  could  eat.  John 
took  it  to  the  boy,  using  due  precaution  to  give  him  only 
what  he  needed. 

The  next  move  was  to  find  Squire  Brown  and  take  him 
to  Ruth's.  Arriving  there  John  drew  up  three  chairs, 
and  sitting  with  their  elbows — John,  the  Squire  and 
Ruth — on  the  table,  the  young  man  started  to  give  the 
facts  just  as  they  had  occurred. 

The  Justice  of  the  Peace  stopped  the  story  in  the  first 
chapter,  to  ask  if  John  had  sold  the  cattle,  and  being 
answered  in  the  affirmative  and  the  money  passed  over, 
he  settled  himself  into  his  judicial  frame  of  mind  and 
listened  to  the  recital. 

That  he  was  pleased  with  his  son's  spirit  was  very  evi 
dent,  and  that  he  was  angry  that  anyone  had  dared  accuse 
a  Brown  of  theft,  was  very  sure.  To  this  extent  he  lost 
the  poise  that  a  true  Justice  should  possess.  The  boy 
paused,  and  the  story  being  done,  Ruth  gave  him  for  his 
pains  a  world  of  sighs,  and  swore  't  was  strange,  't  was 
wondrous  strange.  The  Judge  cleared  his  throat  pre 
paratory  to  giving  a  decision,  when  a  rap  was  heard  at 
the  door,  and  without  waiting  for  an  answer,  in  walked 
the  Rev.  Jedediah  Judson. 

The  preacher's  house  was  just  across  the  way  and  he 
had  seen  John  come  and  go :  he  had  also  noted  the 


I2O  Time  and  Chance 

arrival  of  Squire  Brown.  Like  all  small-minded  men  he 
had  curiosity  about  the  affairs  of  his  neighbors.  He  con 
cluded  he  would  make  the  widow  a  long  deferred  pas 
toral  call. 

"  Ah,  I  just  dropped  in — I  thought  someone  might 
be  sick,  so  if  I  could  be  of  any  help— 

"  Yes,  we  're  glad  you  've  come,"  said  Squire  Brown. 

The  Squire  was  not  quite  sure  about  what  to  do — it 
was  a  case  such  as  he  had  never  before  had — his  own  son 
was  involved.  It  suddenly  occurred  to  him  to  shift  the 
matter  with  legal  to  spiritual  grounds  ;  in  other  words,  to 
ask  the  advice  of  the  preacher. 

'  Yes,  we  're  glad  you  've  come — we  want  your 
advice!  " 

Now  advice  was  the  one  thing  that  the  pastor  de 
lighted  in  giving — the  more  advice  he  gave  the  more  he 
had  left — it  was  like  the  widow's  cruse  of  oil. 

He  drew  up  a  chair  and  listened  intently  while  Squire 
Brown  explained  that  a  slave  boy  had  run  away  and 
taken  his  master's  horse  and  that  both  horse  and  slave 
were  now  in  his  barn. 

'  Let  us  take  it  to  the  Lord  in  prayer!  "  said  the 
preacher.  So  all  knelt  while  the  minister  asked  that  they 
be  guided  aright. 

Then  they  got  up  from  their  knees  and  debated  the 
question. 

'  We  must  n't  keep  the  slave  or  keep  the  horse,  they 
are  the  same  as  stray  cattle — we  must  send  'em  back. 
But  that  man  Silversides  must  apologize  for  accusing  my 
son  of  robbery!  "  grimly  said  the  Justice. 

'  Yes,  let  him  come,  pay  costs,  apologize  and  get  his 
property,  it  's  the  only  thing  to  do,"  said  the  preacher. 

"  John,  go  fetch  the  negro.  Let  's  have  a  look  at 
him!  !  " 


The  Winner  Wins  Horse  and  Freedom     121 

"  Yes,  bring  him  here,  I  will  give  him  a  word  or  two 
of  truth.  It  may  place  his  feet  on  the  solid  rock  of  sal 
vation." 

John  went  out  and  soon  returned  with  the  boy. 
"  Why,  Judas!  he  's  white,"  exclaimed  Rev.  Judson, 
forgetting  all  dignity. 

"  Poor  fellow,"  said  Ruth. 

It  was  pitiable.  The  boy's  teeth  were  chattering  with 
fright.  He  half  expected  to  be  executed  on  the  spot; 
the  absence  of  food,  and  the  sleeping  out  of  doors,  had 
affected  his  nerves  to  such  an  extent  that  he  was  posi 
tively  ill. 

"  Surely  he  is  more  white  than  black!  " 
'  He  's  as  white  as  we  are,"  said  the  preacher. 
"  I  swan,  he  looks  like  you,"  laughed  the  Squire.  And 
seeing  there  was  danger  of  giving  offense,  he  made  mat 
ters  worse  by  backing  it  up : 

'  He  has  red  hair,  blue  eyes,  and  freckles,  so  he  has!  " 
'  Well,  what  of  it!  his  hair  is  kinky!  " 
'  We  '11  cut  it  close  to  his  head  and  then  he  '11  be  a 
white  man !  " 

But  we  can't  keep  him  here — his  master  will  be  after 
him,  dead  sure,  in  less  than  twenty-four  hours!  " 

Hide  him,  then  !  " 

"  I  have  it,  send  him  to  my  wife's  father.  He  can  work 
for  'em  and  it  's  an  out-of-the-way  spot  anyway.  This 
fellow's  horse  will  come  in  handy  for  Hoskins!  " 

But  we  must  get  him  away  from  here  to-night — the 
whole  village  will  know  of  his  arrival  if  we  wait  until  to 
morrow  !  " 

"It  's  only  eight  miles — I  '11  take  him  over  to  Hos- 
kins's  to-night,  myself,"  said  the  preacher. 

Slivers  felt  relieved  to  know  that  he  was  not  going  to 
be  sent  back  to  slavery.  He  tried  to  thank  his  new- 


122  Time  and  Chance 

found  friends,  and  after  Squire  Brown  had  raised  his 
spirits  with  a  good  dose  of  whiskey,  he  did. 

"  I  'd  never  consent  to  this  plan  under  the  sun,"  said 
the  Justice  of  the  Peace,  "  but  for  three  reasons.  First, 
he  's  nearly  white,  so  is  n't  legally  a  slave  at  all.  Sec 
ond,  the  Western  Reserve  belongs  to  Connecticut  and  it 
is  against  the  law  to  import  slaves.  Thirdly,  relates  to 
the  horse,  and  as  for  this,  the  defendant,  not  being  leg 
ally  a  slave,  is  entitled  to  wages  for  past  services  ren 
dered  and  takes  the  horse  on  account." 

This  was  rustic  judicature,  and  very  bad  law.  The 
Court  of  Appeals  would  surely  have  reversed  every  count. 
But  the  case  was  not  carried  to  a  higher  court,  all  for 
good  and  sufficient  reasons  which  are  hereinafter  given. 

Slivers's  hair  was  cut  tight  to  his  head,  and  at  mid 
night,  when  it  was  quite  certain  that  all  Hudson  was 
abed  and  asleep,  the  Reverend  Jedediah  Judson  mounted 
his  dumb  beast,  and  followed  by  Jim  Slivers  on  the  roan 
mare,  moved  out  of  town  on  an  easy  jog. 

No  irate  slave  hunters  from  Zanesville  arrived,  as  ex 
pected,  in  Hudson  the  next  day;  or  the  next;  but  at 
three  o'clock  in  the  morning  of  the  fourth  day  six  people 
from  Zanesville  stood  in  front  of  Squire  Brown's  resi 
dence.  The  much  surprised  Squire  was  awakened.  He 
admitted  these  six  people  to  his  house ;  and  then  hurried 
over  to  Ruth  Crosby's  for  his  son  John. 

But  John  was  not  there. 


More  Runaways  Arrive  123 

CHAPTER  X 

MORE   RUNAWAYS   ARRIVE 

MANY  men  have  hobbies,  and  expend  their  time  in 
accumulating  this,  that  or  the  other.  Whatever 
they  fix  their  hearts  upon,  they  want  it  to  be  finer,  bet 
ter,  more  distinctive  than  that  of  any  other  collector 
with  a  similar  bias. 

One  man  wants  only  Jersey  cattle,  another  Holsteins, 
another  Durhams  and  the  fourth  man  will  have  none  of 
these ;  Herefords  is  the  only  cow  for  him  :  and  they  must 
all  have  the  white  face,  the  line  down  the  back  and  a 
certain  curve  of  horn. 

Other  men  take  to  horses  and  breed  only  one  class. 
The  man  who  has  a  penchant  for  trotters  has  no  use  for 
a  Percheron.  And  whether  the  human  heart  fixes  itself 
on  rare  books,  spoons,  orchids,  cattle,  horses,  or  dogs, 
it  wants  the  most  peculiar  and  the  most  noteworthy. 

In  slavery  times,  when  negroes  were  chattels,  owners 
often  had  a  taste  for  certain  shades  of  complexion.  And 
in  the  South,  even  unto  this  day,  can  be  heard  at  country 
post-offices  arguments  as  to  the  excellence  of  servants  of 
a  certain  tint,  and  warnings  as  to  others. 

Colonel  Silverton  of  Zanesville,  as  we  have  already 
seen,  had  red  hair,  blue  eyes  and  freckles.  He  was 
a  man  of  force  and  intelligence.  In  another  environ 
ment  he  might  have  made  a  citizen  of  rare  excellence,  for 
he  had  in  his  nature  the  germ  of  many  virtues. 

Some  years  before  our  story  begins,  a  mulatto  woman 
whom  he  owned  had  had  a  child.  The  baby  was  nearly 
white:  it  had  freckles,  blue  eyes,  and  its  kinky  hair  was 
a  rusty  red.  The  child  grew  and  was  very  active  and 
intelligent. 


124  Time  and  Chance 

At  first  Colonel  Silverton  was  annoyed  to  think  that 
this  slave  child  looked  so  much  like  himself,  for  the 
neighbors  took  it  as  a  great  joke.  But  finally  the  Colonel 
grew  to  have  a  sort  of  affection  for  the  youngster  and 
aside  from  the  embarrassment  at  the  idea  of  its  resem 
blance  to  himself,  he  took  a  pride  in  it.  In  less  than  two 
years  the  slave  mother  had  another  child  that  looked 
almost  exactly  like  the  first.  In  fact  this  woman  and 
another  octoroon  bore  eleven  children,  all  looking  re 
markably  alike  and  all  resembling  in  a  marked  degree 
their  owner.  These  slaves  were  all  known  as  "  Slivers  " 
for  miles  around :  the  name  being  a  corruption  of  Silver- 
ton:  Sliverton,  Slivers. 

They  were  all  what  were  known  in  slave  times  as  "  red 
head  niggers."  They  were  so  nearly  white  that  if  they 
had  had  straight  hair  and  had  lived  in  the  North  they 
would  easily  have  passed  as  whites. 

The  law  never  defined  just  how  small  a  degree  of 
negro  blood  makes  a  negro.  Even  one  sixty-fourth 
part  was  enough  to  make  the  person  a  slave.  He  might 
be  absolutely  white,  and  if  there  was  proof,  or  even  le 
gendary  proof,  that  there  was  negro  blood  in  his  veins, 
he  could  be  bought  and  sold.  And  even  now  a  person 
with  one  sixty-fourth  African  blood  cannot  legally  ride 
in  a  first-class  passenger  car  in  the  State  of  Kentucky. 
And  if  a  white  man  with  curly  hair  and  a  snub  nose 
should  associate  with  negroes  in  the  South  he  would 
gain  the  name  "  nigger,"  and  could  not  possibly  get  away 
from  it  without  moving  far  away,  and  even  then  it  might 
follow  him.  The  only  proof  of  a  man's  being  a  negro 
often  rests  on  the  one  fact  that  he  lives  with  negroes. 

Colonel  Silverton  took  great  pride  in  his  blue-eyed 
slaves.  He  treated  them  well,  and  did  not  part  with  any 
of  them  unless  they  were  so  unruly  that  there  was  danger 


More  Runaways  Arrive  125 

of  their  corrupting  the  others,  and  then  it  came  to  him 
as  a  personal  sorrow. 

Some  folks  thought  that  the  Colonel's  tender  hearted- 
ness  on  the  slave  question  was  only  sophistry  :  for  he  sold 
a  slave  or  two  every  year  and  they  were  not  real  up  and 
down  vicious  niggers — merely  lazy  niggers — and  all  nig 
gers  are  lazy. 

He  sells  them  'cause  he  's  hard  up,  and  as  an  excuse 
he  swears  they  're  bad!"  whispered  the  white  trash 
among  themselves. 

But  what  of  it  ?  why,  even  parents  often  send  their 
children  to  reform  schools.  They  even  disinherit  them 
and  turn  them  out  of  doors.  Yankees  are  given  to  say 
ing  to  erring  daughters  —  "Never  darken  that  door 
again." 

Colonel  Silverton  was  sure  he  would  not  do  anything 
so  heartless  as  that.  If  his  slaves  reached  a  point  where 
he  could  not  manage  them,  he  would  simply  transfer 
them  to  someone  who  could  look  after  them  properly. 
This  was  true  Christianity,  compared  with  kicking  them 
out  to  shift  for  themselves.  And  let  us  admit  right  here 
that  Colonel  Silverton  was  not  a  totally  depraved  man. 
He  delighted  in  kind  deeds  and  generous  acts.  In  the 
clay  that  was  used  to  make  him  there  was  mixed  much 
positive  good. 

Indeed,  the  plotting  villain  only  exists  in  imagination: 
outside  of  book  covers  and  away  from  the  theatre  the 
like  of  him  is  never  seen  on  land  or  sea. 

Colonel  Silverton  even  had  rudiments  of  a  conscience, 
and  at  the  Last  Day  he  will  perhaps  stand  not  far  from 
Abraham,  Isaac,  Jacob,  David  and  Solomon.  His  prac 
tices  were  not  unlike  theirs  when  in  his  palmiest  days  of 
prosperity — back  in  Ole  Virginny — he  blossomed  out  in 
barbaric  splendor.  His  horses,  his  cattle  and  his  slaves 


126  Time  and  Chance 

were  the  finest  and  best  that  money  could  buy,  and  all 
were  cared  for  with  every  attention  that  a  lavish  purse 
could  devise. 

But  things  got  in  a  bad  way — his  speculations  in  to 
bacco  showed  a  balance  on  the  wrong  side :  when  he 
played  cards  he  got  no  trumps :  but  when  he  straightened 
up  matters  by  giving  long-time  notes  and  moving  to 
Zanesvillc,  he  hoped  for  better  things. 

The  war  of  1812  made  business  good  and  his  contracts 
for  supplying  the  army  with  beef  brought  him  in  good 
returns.  But  suddenly  peace  was  declared  and  this  again 
upset  his  prospects.  Still  the  Colonel  was  a  man  of 
courage  and  resource:  he  never  said  die. 

The  old  notes  were  extended  and  in  the  little  games  at 
cards  at  the  Royal  Hotel  he  won  some  money.  He 
played  heavier — with  high  hopes  of  taking  up  those 
threatening,  hounding  notes:  in  fact  he  had  a  "  system  " 
at  cards  that  he  was  sure  would  win  if  he  could  hold  out. 
But  he  was  unable  to  hold  and  the  cards  running  against 
him,  he  sold  Jim  Slivers — in  fact  he  had  to.  Besides  that, 
Jim  was  a  lazy  dog,  anyway. 

That  night  Jim  ran  away.  The  Colonel  discovered  this 
fact  in  a  peculiar  way,  as  we  have  seen.  He  thought,  of 
course,  the  darkey  would  return,  without  question,  but 
when  he  saw  the  roan  mare  suddenly  swerve  and  shoot 
back  the  other  way,  he  knew  there  was  a  horse-race  on 
hand. 

Having  chased  the  boy  until  he  knew  the  hope  of  over 
taking  him  was  futile,  he  headed  back  for  Zanesville  by 
the  shortest  cut,  intending  to  swear  out  a  warrant  for  the 
arrest  of  young  Brown  and  let  the  Sheriff  go  with  a  posse 
and  capture  the  slave  and  horse. 

But  when  he  arrived  home  he  did  not  have  to  call  the 
Sheriff :  the  Sheriff  called  on  him.  The  holders  of  the 


More  Runaways  Arrive  127 

i 

dreaded  notes  having  been  informed  that  the  Colonel  had 
gambled  away  one  of  his  niggers,  and  fearing  the  others 
would  go  the  same  way,  had  attached  the  six  "  Sliverses," 
and  when  the  Colonel  returned  from  his  horse-back  ride, 
the  Sheriff  was  sitting  on  the  veranda,  documents  in 
hand,  awaiting  his  return.  For  the  present,  the  "  prop 
erty  "  was  allowed  to  remain  where  it  was,  awaiting  a 
possible  adjustment  of  the  debts. 

Of  course,  the  slaves  were  much  agitated.  They 
thought  this  sudden  legal  move  meant  immediate  trans 
portation  to  the  rice  fields.  All  that  night  they  sat  up 
and  prayed,  calling  on  the  Lord  for  deliverance. 

Slivers  had  run  away :  they  guessed  where  he  had 
gone,  for  he  had  told  great  tales  about  how  everyone  in 
Hudson  was  free.  John's  few  chance  words  had  taken 
root  in  the  tropic  soil  of  his  imagination,  and  when  at 
nightfall  he  told  his  companions  about  the  Western 
Reserve,  he  pictured  it  as  a  paradise. 

There  were  seven  of  these  Sliverses:  Tom,  Jane,  Molly, 
Squint,  Sandy  and  Jerry :  Jim  had  already  gone. 

Tom  was  twenty-two  and  the  others  ran  down  to  little 
Jerry  who  was  only  eight.  They  decided  to  run  away, 
and  that  night  after  their  prayer  meeting  they  started : 
walking  only  at  night  and  sleeping  in  the  woods  in  the 
daytime. 

The  Colonel  was  so  chagrined  by  the  unlucky  turn 
things  had  taken  that  he  grew  reckless  and  simply  went 
off  and  got  drunk. 

This  indifferent  spirit  had  given  the  runaways  an  oppor 
tunity  to  get  a  good  start. 

They  had  heard  of  the  great  Squire  Brown  and  they 
felt  that  if  they  could  only  reach  him  they  would  be  safe. 
They  enquired  their  way  to  his  house,  and  having  found 
it,  the  worthy  Squire  was  awakened  from  sleep. 


128  Time  and  Chance 

He  was  astounded :  from  confused  references  to  his 
son,  he  feared  John  was  the  cause  of  this  exodus.  He 
huddled  the  six  shivering  runaways  into  his  little  sitting 
room,  and  wearing  only  trousers  and  shirt  he  ran  in  his 
stocking  feet  over  to  Ruth's.  After  considerable  bang 
ing  the  widow  was  aroused:  John  was  not  there;  she 
thought  he  had  gone  over  to  Hoskins's  to  see  that  colored 
boy. 

"  I  swan  to  Guinny  —  Confound  it!  What  's  to  be 
done — they  will  be  proving  me  a  stealer  of  black  men 
next." 

He  hastened  over  to  consult  the  preacher. 


CHAPTER    XI 

THE   SLAVES   ARE   RE-TAKEN,    WITH    ONE   WHITE 
MAN   OVER 

A  PREACHER  may  be  very  ordinary  in  point  of 
sense,  but  he  still  has  much  the  advantage  of  an 
average  farmer  or  mechanic.  His  appearances  in  public 
give  him  a  self-confidence  that  carries  weight,  even  with 
men  of  discernment,  and,  no  doubt,  meeting  with  many 
people  supplies  a  degree  of  surface  glitter  even  to  dull 
wits.  Squire  Brown  deferred  to  no  one  in  town  but  the 
preacher. 

"  It  beats  the  Dutch,"  said  the  Rev.  Jedediah. 
'  Why  in  time  are  all  the  niggers  in  the  land  coming  to 
Hudson  ?  " 

'  There  are  only  six  in  the  party,  and  one  the  other 
day  is  seven,"  apologized  the  Squire. 

"  Are  seven,  you  mean,"  said  the  preacher — "  Well, 
wait  a  minute  till  I  get  on  some  clothes  and  we  will  go 
over;  I  can  give  'em  some  good  advice,  anyway." 


The  Slaves  are  Re-taken  1 29 

Jedediah  looked  the  runaways  over,  holding  a  dim 
lighted  candle  in  his  hand.  He  counted  them,  placing 
his  hand  on  the  head  of  each — there  were  just  six  and 
none  to  carry.  '  Let  us  pray,"  said  Jedediah,  and  he 
dropped  on  his  knees  and  proceeded  to  ask  for  divine 
guidance  in  this  hour  of  difficulty. 

The  slaves  were  rilled  with  hope  when  they  found  they 
were  among  Christian  people,  and  would  have  shouted 
and  sung  for  joy  had  they  not  been  restrained. 

The  oldest  man  in  the  party  told  their  story  as  we  have 
related  it,  but  with  many  circumlocutions  and  much 
needless  detail.  None  of  the  six  had  ever  talked  with 
John  Brown,  but  all  had  seen  him  and  heard  through 
Jim  Slivers  of  the  wonders  of  the  Western  Reserve, 
which  they  seemed  to  think  had  been  reserved  by  God 
for  oppressed  humanity. 

The  Squire's  wife  was  preparing  breakfast  for  the  half 
famished  refugees;  and  Jedediah  had  gone  home  to  take 
the  difficulty  to  the  Lord  in  prayer  in  the  secret  of  his 
closet,  promising  to  return  soon. 

When  he  returned  it  was  broad  day-light. 

As  he  entered  the  room  and  cast  his  eye  around 
he  exclaimed:  "  Holy  Moses  —  why,  they  are  white 
folk." 

And  so  they  were,  only  not  quite.  Little  Jerry  had 
lain  down  on  the  floor  and  gone  to  sleep  in  sweet  con 
tent ;  Molly  and  Jane,  two  fine,  strong  young  women, 
had  taken  hold  in  true  womanly  style  and  were  helping 
Mrs.  Brown  do  the  housework. 

Squire  Brown  had  no  fixed  idea  of  what  was  the  best 
plan  of  action,  neither  had  the  preacher.  These  people 
could  stay  and  work,  of  course — they  were  welcome  to  a 
home  in  the  village,  and  Jedediah  had  even  thrown  out 
a  promise  that  he  would  accept  them  in  full  membership 


130  Time  and  Chance 

in  the  church,  on  profession  of  faith,  even  without  the 
letters  which  they  had  neglected  to  secure. 

But  no  definite  scheme  of  procedure  was  laid  out;  in 
fact,  fate  had  decided  for  them. 

It  was  still  early  in  the  morning,  when  the  firing  of 
guns  was  heard  close  at  hand.  The  Squire  and  the 
preacher  rushed  out  of  the  house  and  found  it  surrounded 
by  armed  men.  They  had  evidently  come  in  two  wagon 
loads,  with  half  a  dozen  on  horseback,  approaching  the 
village  from  several  different  directions.  A  few  had  guns, 
the  others  were  armed  with  pitchforks,  scythes  tied  to 
poles,  or  clubs.  They  were  as  villainous  a  lot  of  ruffians 
as  were  ever  turned  loose  on  a  community.  Beneath  the 
wagon  were  chained  several  blood-hounds. 

It  was  a  sheriff's  posse  from  Zanesville,  made  up  of 
volunteers,  and  the  promise  of  unlimited  whiskey  and 
lots  of  fun  had  secured  the  very  scum  of  the  town. 

The  Sheriff  was  a  big,  bewhiskered  individual,  with 
probably  some  sense  of  decency,  but  his  overweening 
thirst  to  do  his  "  duty  "  made  him  a  regular  despot. 

He  exhibited  his  papers  authorizing  him  to  secure 
"  one  roan  mare,  and  the  bodies,  dead  or  alive,  of  seven 
negroes,  to  wit:  "  etc.  His  form  darkened  the  door-way 
when  he  stood  and  read  aloud  in  a  high  official  court-crier 
voice  the  long  document.  Then  he  produced  another 
warrant  for  the  arrest  of  one  John  Brown,  who  was  ac 
cused  of  stealing  horses  and  "  bondsmen." 

In  the  name  of  the  law  the  Sheriff  took  possession  of 
the  six  negroes.  One  of  his  henchmen  produced  a  chain 
about  twenty  feet  long  and  eight  pairs  of  handcuffs. 
The  six  slaves  were  handcuffed  to  this  chain  in  pairs, 
being  placed  about  three  feet  apart  so  that  they  could 
walk  in  procession  if  need  be. 

Squire  Brown  protested,  Mrs.  Brown  begged,  the  chil- 


The  Slaves  are  Re-taken  131 

dren  cried :  but  all  were  roughly  pushed  aside.  The 
ruffians  outside  kept  up  a  din  of  shooting  and  yelling; 
the  blood  hounds  bayed  and  the  village  people, thoroughly 
intimidated,  wisely  kept  to  their  houses. 

When  the  six  slaves  were  safely  chained  the  Sheriff 
rattled  the  two  pairs  of  handcuffs  that  were  left  over: 

'  Here  we  go  now,  my  Christian  fren's — jest  two  pair 
left,  one  fer  a  white  man  and  t'  other  fer  a  nigger — bring 
'em  out  and  we  bid  you  good-day.  We  'd  like  to  stay, 
thankee — but  no  use  teasin'  us,  we  can't  do  it  —  now 
fetch  out  the  accused!  " 

The  two  persons  you  want  are  not  here!  "  protested 
Squire  Brown. 

Don't  lie,  ole  man,  you  know  where  the  liars  go — 
bring  out  the  two  beggars  er  we  '11  turn  the  house  wrong 
side  out!  " 

You  may  search  the  house  if  you  choose,  but  you 
will  not  find  them !  " 

Oho,  so  we  may  search  the  house — oh,  thankee  very 
much — search  the  house,  boys!  " 

Three  men  began  to  search.  They  jerked  the  clothes 
off  from  beds,  turned  trunks  upside  down,  dived  into 
chests,  looked  into  the  clock,  rummaged  in  boxes  and 
went  through  the  house  from  cellar  to  garret. 

Then  they  searched  the  barn ;  threatened,  swore, 
cursed,  and  declared  they  would  search  every  house  in 
the  place  and  stay  for  a  month,  but  that  they  would 
capture  their  men.  And  carrying  out  their  threat  they 
proceeded  to  Ruth's,  leaving  a  guard  who  were  instructed 
not  to  allow  Squire  Brown  to  leave  his  house.  The 
Sheriff  kept  Jedediah  close  to  him — he  evidently  thought 
these  men  were  the  instigators  of  the  trouble. 

Finding  nothing  at  Ruth's,  they  started  across  the  road 
for  the  parsonage.  Jedediah  pleaded  with  them  to  spare 


132  Time  and  Chance 

his  home,  and  hinted  that  if  the  Sheriff  would  go  in  alone 
with  him,  they  might  have  a  quiet  understanding  that 
would  be  to  the  advantage  of  all  parties. 

The  Sheriff  was  anxious  to  make  a  complete  success  of 
the  raid :  he  was  sent  to  bring  back  seven  slaves,  one 
horse  and  a  horse-thief:  one  slave,  one  horse  and  the 
horse-thief  were  yet  to  be  found.  He  wanted  to  make  a 
clean  job  of  it,  so  he  caught  at  once  at  the  hint  of  a  com 
promise — anything  to  succeed. 

The  Sheriff  ordered  his  men  to  stay  behind,  and  he  and 
the  preacher  entered  the  parsonage  and  closed  the  door. 
"  So  you  know  where  they  be,  do  you  ?  " 
"  Yes." 

Man,  nigger  and  horse  ?  " 
"  Yes." 

Wall,  show  'em  up." 
How  much  will  you  give  me  ?  " 

The  Sheriff's  little  black  eyes  twinkled:  he  was  debat 
ing  whether  he  had  better  throttle  this  fellow  at  once  and 
force  the  secret  out  of  him,  or  should  he  buy  it!  Ah,  he 
need  not  do  either — he  would  be  a  lawyer  and  use  diplo 
macy. 

I  want  the  property  and  I  want  the  man,  but  you 
oughter  not  to  make  us  pay — not  very  much  anyway!  " 
"  Give  me  a  hundred  dollars  and  I  '11  show  you  where 
they  are!  " 
"  Is  it  far  ?" 

Only  eight  miles." 

'  Wall,  I  want  no  trouble — and  I  oughter  hurry  back 
too — make  it  fifty  and  it  's  a  go !  " 

"  All  right,  pay  me  the  money  and  I  '11  show  you  your 
men  and  horse." 

Oh,  I  can't  do  that  —  it  's  a  good  paymaster  who 
pays  when  he  gets  the  goods." 


The  Slaves  are  Re-taken  133 

"  So  you  '11  agree  to  pay  me  fifty  dollars  as  soon  as  I 
show  'em  to  you  ?  " 
'  Yes,  sirree — shake! 

So  they  shook  hands.  Jedediah  went  to  the  stable, 
followed  by  the  Sheriff,  and  saddled  his  horse,  and  with 
the  Sheriff  and  four  of  his  men  they  started  for  the  farm 
of  Joshua  Hoskins. 

When  within  a  mile  of  the  house,  the  preacher  pointed 
it  out  and  refused  to  go  further.  The  Sheriff  riding 
behind  him  patted  the  stock  of  the  rifle  he  carried  and 
told  him  he  better  go  on.  Three  of  the  riders  circled 
down  the  valley  so  as  to  come  in  from  the  other  side : 
the  Sheriff,  the  preacher  and  the  other  man  rode  slowly 
straight  ahead.  They  arrived  at  the  house  at  the  same 
time. 

Mr.  Hoskins  and  his  wife  were  much  surprised  to  re 
ceive  this  unexpected  visit  from  their  son-in-law. 

'  These  gentlemen  want  to  see  John — John  Brown,— 
on  a  little  matter  of  business!  " 

Why,  he  's  not  here  !  "  answered  Mr.  Hoskins. 
Then  that  slave  boy,  Splinters.      Send  Splinters  out 
at  once !  " 

Slivers,  you  mean.     Why,  he  's  not  here,  either!  " 
And  the  roan  horse  ?  " 

'  The  horse  is  gone,  too — the  boys  rode  away,  both 
on  the  one  horse,  yesterday — 

"  Why,  they  can't  be  far.  What  did  they  take  with 
them  ?  " 

John  carried  a  book  with  him,  nothing  else." 
Search  the  house!  "  roared  the  Sheriff. 
The  three   henchmen  sprang  from  their  saddles  and 
handing  their  bridle  reins  to  the  Sheriff,   proceeded  to 
rummage  through  the  Hoskins  residence. 

It  did  not  take  them  long  to  convince  themselves  that 


134  Time  and  Chance 

no  one  was  in  hiding  in  the  house.  They  proceeded  to 
the  stable  and  saw  where  the  roan  mare  had  stood  the 
day  before. 

"  A  wild  goose  chase!    You  've  lied  to  us,  rascal!  " 

Jedediah  tried  to  explain.  He  was  as  much  disap 
pointed  as  the  other,  yet  could  not  convince  the  Sheriff 
of  the  fact. 

They  rode  straight  back  to  town  on  a  quick  pace, 
Jedediah  obeying  orders  and  keeping  in  the  front. 

Arriving  in  Hudson,  the  Sheriff  was  evidently  relieved 
to  find  that  the  townspeople  had  not  swooped  down  and 
liberated  his  prisoners.  Yet  he  hated  the  idea  of  going 
back  one  slave  short.  Young  niggers  were  worth  at  least 
five  hundred  dollars  apiece,  and  when  he  was  sent  to  do 
a  job,  he  wanted  to  do  it. 

"  Come  in  here,  you  red  head,"  he  said  to  Jedediah 
when  they  had  reached  Squire  Brown's. 

The  refugees  had  settled  down  and  were  meekly  ac 
cepting  their  fate,  just  as  we  always  do  when  worst  comes 
to  worst.  They  were  singing  the  songs  of  Zion,  and  get 
ting  satisfaction  from  a  religion  that  has  a  blessing  for 
the  persecuted  and  a  promise  of  reward  for  the  meek. 

Jedediah  took  the  opportunity  to  whisper  a  few  words 
of  spiritual  consolation  to  the  bondsmen  as  they  huddled 
together  in  a  corner  of  the  little  room. 

The  Sheriff  and  two  of  his  men  were  conversing  in  an 
undertone.  One  of  these  men  was  a  quiet  individual 
who  seemed  in  appearance  somewhat  of  a  gentleman. 
He  carried  a  gun,  but  kept  apart  from  the  others  and 
drank  no  whiskey  from  the  keg  that  was  in  the  wagon. 
This  keg  had  been  replenished  during  the  day  at  the 
grocery,  and  the  visitors  had  not  thought  to  pay.  In 
fact  they  had  helped  themselves  to  eatables  and  drink 
ables  and  were  now  noisy  and  reckless  to  a  high  degree. 


The  Slaves  are  Re-taken  135 

"  By  God,  they  do  look  alike,"  blurted  the  Sheriff. 

'  They  are  all  cut  from  one  piece,  I  tell  you." 

"  All  have  red  hair !  " 

"  And  freckles! 

"  And  blue  eyes!  " 

"  And  bow-legs!  " 

Captain  Harker,  do  you  identify  these  seven  negroes 
as  the  ones  you  purchased  from  Colonel  Silverton  ?" 
asked  the  Sheriff  in  a  voice  that  was  designed  for  all  to 
hear. 

"  I  do,"  said  the  quiet  man  firmly. 
'  Boys,  we  've  got  the  niggers!  " 

This  last  remark  was  shouted  out  of  the  door  at  the 
men  in  the  yard. 

Several  of  them  came  running  forward  until  the  room 
was  crowded  full.  One  fellow  knocked  off  Jedediah's 
hat,  another  grabbed  into  his  collar  and  yanked  him 
towards  the  chain. 

In  a  twinkling  he  was  handcuffed  fast.  His  face  was 
pallid  with  fear  and  in  his  dishevelled  condition  he  did 
not  look  unlike  the  group  with  which  he  was  chained. 
The  ruffians  sent  up  shout  after  shout  of  triumph,  as 
they  hustled  the  captives  out  into  the  road  where  they 
were  ordered  to  climb  into  the  wagon.  Being  fastened 
too  closely,  they  were  unable  to  do  this  without  consider 
able  difficulty. 

"  Load  'em  in,  boys." 

A  dozen  of  the  posse  rushed  forward,  and  picking  up 
bodily  the  seven  prisoners,  tumbled  them  into  the 
wagon. 

It  was  a  deep  box  partially  filled  with  straw.  Several 
men  with  pitchforks  climbed  in  and  sat  on  boards  that 
were  placed  across  the  wagon  bed.  The  horses  were 
already  hitched  on — the  order  was  given  to  start,  and 


136  Time  and  Chance 

away  they  started  with  a  cracking  of  whips,  a  barking  of 
dogs  and  a  shout  of  defiance. 

Several  of  the  horsemen  stayed  back  and  fired  shots 
into  the  air  as  a  warning  that  the  townspeople  must  not 
follow;  then  away  they  went  with  a  rush  towards  the 
south  and  disappeared  in  a  cloud  of  dust. 

The  runaway  slaves  were  gone,  the  pastor  of  the  church 
was  gone.  But  John  Brown,  Slivers  and  the  roan  mare, 
where  were  they  ? 


CHAPTER    XII 

JOHN   AND   JIM    MAKE   A   HASTY   DEPARTURE 

THE  ability  to  conceive  and  the  will  to  act  were  bud 
ding  in  the  breast  of  John  Brown.  The  self- 
reliance  of  manhood  was  pushing  him  out  and  away  from 
his  fellows  and  even  from  his  parents.  In  his  own  mind  he 
had  worked  out  the  truth  that  it  was  "  a  condition  and 
not  a  theory  "  that  confronted  him.  He  had  viewed  the 
question  from  the  side  of  Colonel  Silverton,  and  how 
that  gentleman  (who  was  not  o'er  gentle)  could  help 
throwing  the  blame  for  the  loss  of  a  slave  and  a  horse  on 
him,  he  could  not  imagine.  The  property  was  valuable 
— the  officers  of  the  law  would  follow  it  up — and  if  they 
came  to  Hudson,  as  they  surely  would,  they  would  likely 
get  a  clue  in  some  way  to  the  whereabouts  of  Slivers. 
And  from  the  threat  made  by  Colonel  Silverton,  he — 
John  Brown — would  be  apprehended. 

His  sympathies  for  Slivers  were  aroused  and  he  began 
to  look  upon  the  boy  as  a  victim  of  persecution  :  he  cast 
about  in  his  mind  for  a  way  to  get  his  friend  to  a  place 
of  safety. 

Yet  doubt  and  perplexity  wrung  his  soul,  for  the  sweet 


John  and  Jim  Make  a  Hasty  Departure     137 

face  of  Margaret  was  ever  before  him.  If  he  could  only 
advise  with  her — if  he  could  only  tell  her  his  plans!  And 
then  the  remembrance  that  she  had  not  looked  with 
favor  on  his  becoming  a  preacher  shook  his  fortitude  like 
an  ague  chill.  If  she  only  knew  what  a  great  and  good 
preacher  he  proposed  to  be,  he  was  sure  that  she  would 
give  him  her  blessing  and  say,  "  Go,  and  may  the  Lord 
be  with  you  !  " 

Instead  of  reading  the  Bible  he  was  now  reading  Plu 
tarch,  He  went  into  the  house  resolved  to  open  the  book 
at  random,  and  the  paragraph  his  eye  chanced  to  light 
on,  he  would  take  for  a  message.  This  was  the  passage: 
'  He  was  directed  by  the  gods;  and  having  received 
the  impression  what  was  best  to  do  he  straightway  did  it, 
keeping  his  plans  hidden  in  his  own  heart;  and  whatso 
ever  he  attempted,  he  succeeded  in  doing.  .  .  ." 

John  closed  the  book  and  exclaimed  to  Ruth : 

Please  bring  me  a  sheet  of  paper.     I  want  to  write  a 
letter!  " 

Why,  surely,  you  are  getting  to  be  almost  a  man 
when  you  can  write  letters!  " 

The  paper  was  brought  and  John  labored  at  the  let 
ter,  Rachel  looking  on  in  admiration.  But  she  could  not 
read  writing;  besides  that,  John  could  not  write  well,  so 
Rachel  did  not  know  to  whom  the  letter  was  or  what  it 
was  about. 

The  letter  finished,  folded,  directed,  and  sealed,  John 
sprang  up  with  a  sudden  determination  and  said: 

'  I  'm  going  away  —  I  'm  going  away  "  —And  the 
words  of  Plutarch  kept  singing  in  his  ears — "  keeping  his 
plans  hidden  in  his  own  heart."  He  lowered  his  tone 
and  said  casually,  "  Yes,  I  'm  going  away — good-bye  !" 

He  had  already  passed  out  of  the  door. 

"  And  not  even  tell  where,"  smiled  Ruth. 


138  Time  and  Chance 

"  And  without  kissing  me  good-bye,"  said  little 
Rachel,  who  now  came  running  forward  from  where  she 
was  washing  the  dishes,  her  hands  all  soap-suds.  She 
held  up  her  rosy  face  to  be  kissed,  and  the  tall  boy 
leaned  over  the  little  girl  and  tenderly  kissed  her  cheek 
and  patted  the  brown  curls. 

"  No,  and  not  even  tell  where — my  plans  are  hidden 
in  my  own  breast !  ' ' 

Ruth  thought  she  saw  tears  in  his  eyes  as  he  turned 
and  went  down  the  pathway. 

'  John   's  getting  funny  lately — don't  you  think  so, 
Mamma  ?"  said  little  Rachel. 

"  Oh,  he  's  always  odd;  you  know  people  can't  be 
alike!  " 

"  I  think  he  is  getting  stuck  up  since  he  went  to  Zanes* 
ville.  He  did  n't  fetch  us  anything  the  last  time!  " 

"Oh,  he  can't  think  of  us  all  the  time." 

He  ought  to — was  n't  it  we  that  brought  him  up  ?  " 

"  Well,  partially." 

Where  's  he  going  now,  do  you  think  ?  " 
Oh,  only  after  the  cows  somewhere;  his  father  sent 
him,  I  suppose." 

And  while  the  harmless  little  talk  between  mother  and 
daughter  was  in  progress,  John  had  stopped  for  an  in 
stant  at  his  father's  house  and  had  then  crossed  the 
bridge  and  was  walking  fast  towards  the  clearing  in  the 
woods  that  marked  the  farm  of  Joshua  Hoskins. 

The  eight  miles  were  turned  off  in  a  fraction  less  than 
two  hours.  In  a  stump  patch  near  the  log  house  John 
saw  the  roan  mare  hitched  alongside  of  an  ox.  The  team 
was  hitched  to  a  plow:  Hoskins  was  riding  the  horse 
(a  new  experience  for  him)  and  Slivers  was  holding  the 
handles. 

John  looked  at  the  combination  and  grimly  wondered 


John  and  Jim  Make  a  Hasty  Departure      139 

after  all  whether  the  condition  of  a  free  man  was  any 
better  than  that  of  a  bondsman.  The  mud-chinked 
house,  devoid  of  the  slightest  attempt  toward  beauty, 
was  surely  not  so  good  as  the  smartly  white-washed 
"  quarters"  at  Silverside ;  the  work  was  hard,  and  the 
society  of  the  sober,  serious,  life-burdened  Hoskins  was 
not  enlivening.  Slivers  had  had  three  days  of  "  free 
dom  "  and  was  ready  to  accept  any  change — even  to 
going  back  to  slavery.  A  cotton  field  could  not  be  worse 
than  a  stump  field,  and  at  least  there  was  in  slavery  the 
companionship  of  his  fellows. 

So  when  John  told  Mr.  Hoskins,  with  a  touch  of  im- 
periousness,  that  Slivers  must  go  with  him  for  a  day  or 
so,  Slivers  was  delighted  and  Hoskins  depressed. 

"  I  thought  I  was  to  have  the  boy  and  horse  for  taking 
care  on  'em,"  slowly  said  the  thrifty  Hoskins. 

"  And  so  you  are — when  I  bring  them  back,"  said 
John. 

"  I  s'pose  your  father  has  sent  you  off  for  cattle,  and 
so  you  '11  have  to  have  the  horse,  too  ?  "  said  Hoskins 
as  he  dismounted. 

Yes,  we  '11  have  to  take  the  horse  and  go  quick," 
said  John,  inwardly  congratulating  himself  that  he  had 
escaped  telling  a  positive  lie. 

Slivers  was  keen  for  liberty,  which  he  now  realized  was 
quite  a  different  thing  from  freedom.  He  unfastened  the 
traces,  and  slipped  the  old  chain  harness  off  the  mare  in 
a  twinkling. 

At  a  bound  John  sprang  into  the  saddle;  Slivers,  with 
out  being  told,  swung  up  behind  as  the  mare  moved 
away. 

"  When  will  we  see  you  again  ?  "  called  the  puzzled 
Hoskins. 

"  When  we  get  back,"  shouted  John. 


140  Time  and  Chance 

The  severe  work  had  told  on  Miss  Nancy,  yet  at  a  dig 
from  John's  heels  she  struck  into  a  gallop  and  boys  and 
horse  disappeared  in  the  woods,  but  not  in  the  direction 
from  whence  they  came. 

That  same  night  the  slave  hunters  arrived  in  Hudson. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

VACANT   PLACES,    YET   THE    OLD    WORLD    GOES   ON 

IT  was  dusk  when  the  Sheriff's  party  made  their  noisy 
exit  from  the  town  of  Hudson.  No  one  in  the  place 
had  witnessed  the  abduction  of  the  preacher,  save  Squire 
Brown ;  and  the  whole  matter  had  happened  so  quickly 
that  he  hardly  realized  it.  He  had  tried  to  protest,  but 
his  voice  was  drowned  by  the  howling  of  the  drunken 
mob. 

In  an  hour  after  the  coast  was  clear  the  frightened 
citizens  began  to  come  out  of  their  houses.  No  one 
knew  just  what  had  happened  —  very  few,  indeed,  knew 
that  the  refugees  were  in  Squire  Brown's  house;  and 
when  it  became  known  that  he  had  harbored  the  run 
aways  and  thus  brought  the  mob  of  slave  hunters  down 
on  the  place,  they  were  naturally  incensed. 

Brown  was  the  richest  man  in  town,  and  one  woman 
now  hinted  that  his  money  came  by  very  dark  methods, 
with  a  sneer  and  a  slide  and  a  peculiar  twist  on  the  word 

dark." 

Squire  Brown  did  not  tell  of  the  capture  of  the 
preacher:  he  felt  he  would  be  blamed  in  the  matter- 
why  had  he  allowed  it  ?  the  whole  proceeding  occurred 
in  his  own  house,  under  his  very  nose.  He  prayed  hard 
that  it  would  come  out  all  right,  and  he  fully  believed 
that  in  the  morning  when  the  posse  were  sober,  they 


HI 

would  see  their  mistake  and  bring  "  the  Elder"  back; 
further  than  this,  the  preacher  had  a  tongue  in  his  head 
and  could  speak  for  himself.  And  as  for  the  slaves,  it 
was  the  Sheriff's  duty  to  take  them. 

So  Squire  Brown  absolved  himself  from  blame,  and 
assuring  his  family,  who  had  been  hiding  in  the  barn, 
that  all  danger  was  past,  he  ordered  his  wife  to  prepare 
supper.  After  the  meal,  and  before  the  younger  children 
were  put  to  bed,  he  proceeded  to  hold  family  prayers,  as 
was  his  custom. 

On  opening  the  Bible,  the  leaves  parted  at  a  place 
where  there  was  a  letter.  The  family  Bible  was  always 
a  sort  of  receptacle  for  documents  and  papers;  he  had 
seen  this  letter  the  night  before,  but  had  paid  no  atten 
tion  to  it.  He  now  discovered  that  the  seal  was  not 
broken,  and  on  inspection  saw  that  the  missive  was 
directed  to  himself. 

He  broke  the  seal  and  read  the  letter.  With  bad 
spelling  corrected,  it  ran  as  follows : 

HUDSON,  OHIO,  August  30,  1815. 
MY  DEAR  FATHER: 

When  you  read  this  I  will  be  many  miles  away.  I  do  not 
tell  you  where,  for  that  would  put  you  to  the  trouble  of  follow 
ing  me.  I  have  a  work  to  do.  My  plans  are  hidden  in  my 
own  breast.  I  know  you  have  always  wanted  me  to  do  some 
thing  worthy,  and  as  you  are  very  busy,  I  did  not  care  to  waste 
your  time  by  talking  about  it.  I  have  received  the  impression 
what  is  best  to  do  and  I  am  going  to  do  it. 

Yours  truly, 

JOHN  BROWN. 

P.  S. — I  'm  not  afraid  of  them  slave  owners,  but  still  I  know 
they  will  blame  me  and  be  here  soon  looking  for  Slivers  and 
the  horse.  Slivers  and  the  horse  are  going  with  me. 

J.  B. 


142  Time  and  Chance 

The  Deacon  hastily  stuffed  the  letter  into  his  pocket 
and  then  proceeded  to  do  his  chapter.  He  read  in  a 
hurried,  absent-minded  sort  of  way.  The  prayer  that 
followed  was  a  stereotyped  affair  that  proved  to  the 
entire  dozen  of  Browns,  big  and  little,  that  the  father  of 
his  family  was  thinking  of  the  contents  of  that  letter. 

Like  many  another  good  man,  Deacon  Brown  never 
took  his  family  into  his  confidence;  but  he  felt  now  that 
an  explanation  was  due,  so  he  told  the  children  that  he 
had  sent  their  brother  John  away  on  a  trip,  and  that  the 
letter  was  only  about  some  business.  Then  he  went  out 
into  the  night  air  and  mopped  his  forehead  in  perplexity 
and  tried  to  recall  what  particular  sin  he  had  been  guilty 
of,  that  the  hand  of  the  Lord  should  be  laid  so  heavily 
upon  him. 

He  loved  the  boy,  John,  more  than  all  his  flock,  yes, 
more  than  his  wife :  the  lad  resembled  his  dead  mother 
— the  woman  whom  he  had  loved  in  his  youth — and  now 
that  the  boy  had  gone,  he  knew  for  the  first  time  how 
great  his  affection  for  the  lad  was.  He  was  to  him  what 
Joseph  was  to  Jacob.  The  rest  that  were  left  were  good, 
and  they  were  strong,  but  they  lacked  the  spirit  and  in 
dividuality.  And  yet — yes,  he  said  it  with  hot  tears  of 
regret — he  had  never  once  taken  the  boy  to  his  heart  and 
told  him  of  his  love.  Never  had  he  shown  him  sympathy 
except  in  indirect  ways. 

No,  he  did  not  blame  the  lad  for  going,  but  if  he  had 
only  asked  his  advice  or  asked  for  money  or  asked  for  his 
blessing.  But  he  asked  for  nothing:  he  went,  that  's  all: 
he  was  sufficient  unto  himself.  The  Deacon  was  grieved, 
but  as  he  thought  again  how  independent  the  lad  was  in 
planning  his  own  course  and  carrying  it  out,  there  came 
instead  of  tears,  a  sad  smile  of  satisfaction  to  think  that 
his  favorite  son  was  no  weakling,  after  all. 


Vacant  Places,  yet  the  Old  World  Goes  on     143 

The  Deacon  sent  one  of  the  children  over  to  the  par 
sonage  to  tell  Mrs.  Judson  that  her  husband  would  not 
return  until  the  next  day. 

The  pastor's  wife  sent  back  word  that  she  "  did  not 
care  if  he  did  not  come  at  all." 

The  lady  spake  wiser  than  she  knew,  for  the  preacher 
did  not  return  the  next  day,  or  the  next,  or  the  next, 
and  it  became  noised  about  that  he  had  run  away.  It 
was  known  that  he  did  not  live  on  good  terms  with  his 
wife ;  besides  he  was  in  debt  to  many  people  for  various 
small  sums. 

If  there  had  been  a  newspaper  in  the  town  the  affair 
would  have  been  written  up,  and  the  headlines  would 
have  announced,  "  Another  good  man  gone  wrong." 

The  Bible  has  a  special  injunction  concerning  our  duty 
towards  the  widows  and  the  fatherless  in  their  affliction, 
and  country  people  are  not  slow  in  following  it.  A 
preacher's  widow  is  fit  subject  for  a  farmer's  commis 
eration  the  wide  world  over. 

A  bee  was  held,  and  Liza  Ann  Judson's  little  harvest 
was  gathered.  What  her  garden  did  not  produce,  their 
farms  did — so  her  cellar  was  filled,  and  many  loads  of 
wood  were  brought,  for  the  local  weather  prophet  pre 
dicted  a  hard  winter. 

It  is  very,  very  rare  that  any  one  man  in  a  community 
is  necessary  to  its  life.  A  preacher  especially,  who  is 
always  a  consumer  and  not  necessarily  a  producer,  may 
often  be  easily  spared.  Deacon  Brown  filled  in  on  Sun 
days  with  Jonathan  Edwards;  and  Liza  Ann  being  freed 
from  the  trammel  of  a  quibbling,  selfish,  and  small- 
minded  man  was  fairly  contented.  Unknown  to  herself 
she  was  glad  he  was  gone,  but  the  people  of  the  town 
thought  she  was  sorely  afflicted  and  this  brought  her 
their  sympathy,  a  thing  which  they  tendered  to  her 


144  Time  and  Chance 

begrudgingly  when  her  husband  was  with  her,  and  when, 
therefore,  she  needed  it  most.  Perhaps  she  thought 
herself  sorely  afflicted,  and  yet  being  able  to  bear  the 
burden,  she  got  a  satisfaction  from  it,  for  martyrdom  is 
never  all  martyrdom;  so  she  was  happy,  and  thinking 
herself  miserable,  she  turned  to  "  good  works  "  for 
peace;  and  therein  was  she  refreshed,  and  with  Ruth's 
guidance  she  lightened  the  labors  of  many  who  bore 
burdens  in  very  fact. 

These  Sisterhoods  of  Mercy,  whose  membership  is 
made  up  of  stricken  womanhood,  what  would  poor 
humanity  do  without  them  ! 

But  the  boys  of  the  village,  and  the  men  of  the  village, 
and  the  women  of  the  village,  missed  John  Brown.  For 
he  could  run  and  wrestle,  and  drive  cattle  and  do  that 
which  other  boys  of  his  age  could  not  do;  he  had  intel 
lect  and  was  alive  and  alert,  so  the  boys  liked  him,  and 
the  parents  knew  that  his  influence  over  the  other  boys 
was  good. 

In  Ruth's  little  household  there  was  a  great  big  vacant 
space,  and  in  Deacon  Brown's  heart  was  another. 

They  felt  sure  John  could  manage  for  himself,  but  the 
uncertainty  of  it  all,  the  uncertainty! 


CHAPTER    XIV 

EXPLOITING   THE    PUBLIC   AND    PROSPERITY 

WHERE  we  goin',  Mister  Himbook  ?  " 
Call  me  John,  please  !     Where  did   you    get 
that  other  foolish  name  ?  " 

Why,  that  's  what  Marse,  he  called  you !  " 
'  Well,  we  have  got  through  with  '  Marse  '  now." 
Aint  we  goin'  back  to  Zanesville  ?  " 


Exploiting  the  Public  and  Prosperity       145 

1  No,  we  are  going  further  than  that!  " 
:'  Lordy,  I  'se  glad,  but  I  radder  go  back  and  take  the 
chances  of  the  cotton  fields  than  b'long  to  Marse  Hoskins 
— he  work  from  sun-up  to  dark  and  no  chance  to  rest. 
Where  you  say  we  goin'  ?  " 

"  I  did  n't  say — but  I  tell  you  now,  we  are  going  to 
Connecticut." 

:<  How  far  am  it  ?  " 
Seven  hundred  miles." 
Golly !  has  you  money  to  buy  chuck  ?  " 
People  will  not  charge  us  for  food — we  will  have  to 
stop  and  work  along  the  way  to  get  money  for  bridge 
toll,  though." 

'  How  much  money  has  you  now  ?  " 
'  Just  twenty-five  cents." 
"  Lordy,  we  '11  never  git  there." 
'  Yes,  I  think  we  will  arrive." 
'  Well,  I  'se  your  nigger — you  owns  me  now." 
"  No,  I  don't — you  are  free." 
"  Don't  you  want  me  ?  " 
'  Yes,  I  want  you  to  go  with  me." 
'  Why,   I   b'longed    to  Marse  Silverton :    I  got  free; 
and  if  I  'm  free  I  b'longs  to  me,  and  I  can  give  me  to  you 
— see  ?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  see — you  are  a  fool.  I  told  you  that  the 
Western  Reserve  belonged  to  Connecticut  and  that 
slaves  brought  into  the  State  from  elsewhere  were  free. 
Now  do  you  understand  ?  " 

'  Marse  Hoskins  said  I  was  his." 
'  Well,  you  were  not." 
'  Then  I  b'longs  to  no  one  ?  " 
"  Certainly  not." 
'  Not  even  to  me  ?  " 
"  Don't  talk  me  to  death,  Jim  Golden — that  's  your 


146  Time  and  Chance 

name  now — don't  talk  me  to  death — slide  off  and  walk  a 
ways  now.     We  must  save  Nancy." 

Jim  slid  off  and  trotted  along  in  silence.  From  time  to 
time  Jim  would  ride,  then  John  would  walk.  That  first 
day  they  made  twenty  miles.  At  night  they  stopped  at  a 
settler's  cabin.  Every  hospitality  was  extended  to  them, 
and  the  statement  that  they  were  brothers  and  were  go 
ing  East  to  bring  back  cattle  was  accepted  without 
question. 

The  good  woman  of  the  house  remarked  that  they 
looked  alike :  it  is  very  easy  to  see  family  resemblance, 
as  anyone  can  testify  who  has  an  adopted  child  in  the 
family.  John  had  instructed  Jim  not  to  talk,  and  the 
boy  obeyed  so  well  that  the  folks  thought  him  deaf  and 
dumb.  John  was  not  inclined  to  say  much  either,  so  at 
breakfast  the  host  shifted  from  one  subject  to  another  in 
hopes  of  saying  something  of  interest.  The  weather  had 
been  fully  discussed,  religion  touched  on,  then  politics, 
and  finally  the  man  said  : 

'  There  's  goin'  to  be  a  hoss  race  down  at  the  Cross 
Roads  this  afternoon!  " 

'  What  's  'at!  what  's  'at!  "  exclaimed  Jim,  all  of  a 
quiver  in  an  instant. 

Why,  I  thought  you  could  n't  talk." 

'  Whaffer  'bout  that  hoss  race  ?  " 

Nothing,  only  there  's  a  hoss  race  down  at  the 
Roads  last  Saturday  in  every  month — great  goin's  on, 
ten-dollar  purse — everybody  runs  thet  wants  to." 

Jim  could  eat  no  more  breakfast,  but  at  a  kick  from 
John  under  the  table,  he  kept  still. 

No  charge  was  made  for  the  accommodation,  and  at 
once  after  breakfast  the  boys  shook  hands  with  the  kind 
people  and  started  away. 

Once  out  of  sight  of  the  house,  Jim  slid  off  the  horse 


Exploiting  the  Public  and  Prosperity       147 

and  pulled  John  with  him.      He  threw  his  arms  around 
the  other's  neck  and  cried  : 

"  It  's  ourn,  it  's  ourn,  it  's  ourn  ! 
'  What  is  ours,  lunatic  ?  " 
'  That  ten  dollars !     It  's  ourn,  it  's  ourn,  it  's  ourn  !  " 

They  walked  on  slowly,  leading  the  horse.  Jim  was 
half  crazy  over  the  prospect  and  was  sure  that  Nancy 
could  win  in  any  "  scrub  race." 

John  had  conscientious  scruples  on  the  subject  of 
horse-racing.  It  was  a  positive  sin,  as  much  so  as  card 
playing. 

But  you  don't  bet,"  explained  Jim,  who  had  heard 
both  sides  of  the  argument—  '  You  don't  bet,  you  jest 
lets  the  mare  gallop,  and  if  she  goes  over  the  scratch 
'fore  the  others,  they  gives  you  the  ten  dollars — see  ? " 

John  saw  and  decided  after  all  that  it  was  not  a  posi 
tive  sin  —  the  Bible  said  nothing  about  it,  and  if  they 
captured  the  ten  dollars,  it  would  mean  just  the  wages  of 
ten  days'  work. 

They  reached  the  Cross  Roads,  a  thriving  place,  con 
sisting  of  a  blacksmith  shop,  a  church,  a  store  and  a 
tavern. 

The  two  boys  mounted  on  the  horse  and  approached  the 
tavern,  where  the  landlord  sat  smoking  on  the  veranda. 

"  Going  to  be  a  horse  race  here  this  afternoon,  I 
hear,"  remarked  John. 

'  You  've  got  it,  young  man — 'light,  and  make  your 
selves  at  home!  " 

About  that  race — can  we  go  in  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  it  's  free  for  all.  It  brings  trade  here,  you 
know,  makes  fun  for  the  boys,  and  then  encourages  the 
breeding  of  good  horses." 

The  landlord  was  a  glib  sort  of  fellow- — -evidently 
from  "  York  State."  He  owned  a  half  interest  in  the 


148  Time  and  Chance 

store,  and  being  prosperous,  was  a  man  who  might  be 
honest. 

"  Put  your  horse  in  the  barn  and  come  in  and  take 
something.  I  say,  has  your  nag  ever  been  in  a  race  ?  " 

'  No,"  answered  Jim,  who  was  willing  to  relieve  John 
from  the  onus  of  telling  a  lie,  "  no,  but  we  wants  to  see 
if  she  can  run." 

The  landlord  followed  the  boys  to  the  barn.  He 
looked  Miss  Nancy  over  carefully,  then  called  the  hostler 
and  they  consulted  together. 

'Er  is  a  dam  good  'orse, "  remarked  the  hostler,  as 
he  felt  of  her  hocks.  "  An'  wot  's  more  if  'er  can  go  as 
well  as  'er  looks,  it  's  all  up  with  the  rest." 

The  landlord  had  a  good  horse  of  his  own:  the  horse 
had  won  the  race  the  month  before,  and  the  fact  that  his 
horse  could  probably  beat  the  rest,  likely  had  something 
to  do  with  his  liberality  in  offering  the  stake.  In  other 
words,  there  was  a  string  tied  to  the  purse. 

Would  you  mind  showing  what  your  horse  can  do — 
just  a  canter,  you  know." 

John  objected  :  Jim  did  n't  know.  They  both  realized 
that  they  were  in  the  hands  of  a  sharper;  still  sharpers 
may  be  fair,  and  the  honor  that  exists  among  thieves  is 
often  nearer  genuine  than  that  which  is  supposed  to  exist 
among  honest  men.  Our  sins  differ  in  quality,  not 
quantity. 

Only  a  canter!  see  here  now,  leave  this  to  me;  if 
your  horse  can  go,  I  '11  make  you  a  dollar — I  'm  white, 
I  am."  Jim  turned  pale  at  this  allusion  to  color  and  then 
got  his  tongue  enough  to  affirm,  "  So  am  I." 

Both  boys  were  relieved  when  the  landlord  did  not 
dispute  it:  he  was  intent  on  horse,  he  emitted  horse  at 
every  pore. 

"  Only  a  canter,  walk  down  the  road  a  bit  and  let  'em 


Exploiting  the  Public  and  Prosperity       149 

come   back  easy-like.     Get  out  Hurricane,   Harris,  and 
one  of  the  boys  will  go  with  you." 

There  was  no  way  but  to  follow  the  will  of  this 
stronger  mind. 

Hurricane  was  led  out.  He  was  a  dock-tailed  hunter, 
big  and  bony.  John  's  heart  sank  at  the  sight  of  the 
beautiful  animal  as  the  blanket  was  stripped  off.  It  took 
two  men  to  saddle  him. 

'  He  can't  run,  Marse  Himbook — he  can  hurdle,  but 
he  can't  run  as  fast  as  a  cow,"  whispered  the  excited  Jim. 

"  I  'm  your  brother— call  me  John — be  careful  now.  " 

The  English  hostler  took  off  his  coat,  exchanged  his 
hat  for  a  cap  and  rode  the  big,  rearing,  plunging  horse 
up  the  road,  followed  by  the  meek  and  seemingly  tired 
Miss  Nancy. 

The  road  ran  through  the  bottom-land,  level  as  a  floor. 
After  they  had  gone  a  half  mile  they  turned  and  started 
back  on  a  canter;  they  increased  it  to  a  gallop,  which 
soon  settled  into  a  run.  Hurricane  now  had  his  head 
and  ran  in  great  lunging  springs.  By  his  side,  neck  and 
neck,  was  Miss  Nancy  moving  with  a  light,  quick,  nerv 
ous  patter.  She  ran  low,  her  nose  straight  out  in  front 
and  her  back  as  straight  as  the  top  rail  of  a  fence.  They 
shot  past  the  hotel  exactly  side  by  side,  eased  down, 
stopped  and  came  back. 

'  Why  did  n't  you  beat  him,  you  miserable  John  Bull !" 
called  the  landlord. 

'  I  did  n't  want  to,  don't  you  know,  Sir,"  replied  the 
Englishman. 

Hurricane  was  all  excitement  and  covered  with  foam. 
The  roan  mare  had  scarcely  turned  a  hair. 

John  was  as  excited  as  was  the  black  racer,  but  a  long 
solemn  wink  from  his  "  brother  Jim  "  gave  him  con 
fidence. 


150  Time  and  Chance 

The  horses  were  put  back  in  the  barn.  In  the  box  stall 
where  Hurricane  was  kept,  the  landlord  and  his  agent 
were  having  it  out  in  an  undertone. 

"  Why  did  n't  you  pull  away  from  him,  you  fool  ?  " 

"  Pull  away  from  'im,  Sir  ?  that  mare  is  a  ghost — she 
'angs  like  a  shadder — you  cawn't  pull  away  from  a  'orse 
like  that — you  cawn't  do  it,  you  know.  I  'd  back  'er  on 
Epsom  Downs,  for  the  Derby  plate,  Sir,  I  would,  be 
Gawd !  ' ' 

The  landlord  came  out. 

"  So  you  are  brothers,  are  you  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  Jim. 

"  And  you,  Freckledy,  are  going  to  ride  in  the  race 
this  afternoon,  are  you  ?  " 

Why  yes,  you  said  we  might!  " 

"  And  so  you  may.  Now  my  horse  can  beat  you — my 
man  Harris  did  n't  let  him  out  at  all  just  now.  Still, 
you  are  good  fellows — I  always  like  to  encourage  the 
young — was  a  boy  once  myself — I  want  you  to  win  this 
race.  Here  's  five  dollars  and  if  you  win  it,  you  get  the 
ten — you  hear  ?  Now  we  are  strangers — don't  either  of 
you  speak  to  me  the  rest  of  the  day." 

He  counted  the  five  silver  dollars  out  into  the  hands 
of  John  Brown  and  walked  out  of  the  barn.  Jim 
tumbled  over  into  an  empty  stall  and  acted  as  though  he 
was  having  a  fit.  He  rolled  over  and  stood  on  his  head 
and  tied  himself  in  a  knot  with  his  feet  around  his  neck. 

After  sundry  kicks  from  John,  he  came  to,  sat  up  and 
chuckled : 

It  's  ourn,  it  's  ourn,  it  's  ourn !  " 

It  was  yet  early  in  the  forenoon  and  very  few  people 
were  about,  but  in  an  hour  men  and  women  on  horse 
back  began  to  appear.  Then  ox-carts  and  people  afoot; 
girls  in  white,  women  with  babies,  barefoot  men  in  jeans, 


Exploiting  the  Public  and  Prosperity        151 

and  by  noon  nearly  five  hundred  people  were  picnicing 
in  the  little  grove  back  of  the  tavern.  Every  tree  and 
post  that  could  be  seen  had  a  horse  tied  to  it. 

In  the  bar  room  whiskey  flowed  over  the  counter  like 
water,  and  every  seat  at  the  long  table  in  the  dining- 
room  was  taken  by  a  man  in  shirt  sleeves.  As  fast  as 
one  got  up,  another  took  his  place. 

Harris  took  our  two  boys  around  to  the  kitchen  and 
piled  their  plates  with  corned  beef,  cabbage  and  potatoes. 
Then  came  a  blackberry  pie  that  was  divided  into  two 
parts  and  stowed  away,  all  without  a  word. 

After  dinner  the  crowd  increased  and  John  noticed  that 
the  landlord  was  flourishing  money  and  making  a  great 
bluff  at  backing  Hurricane;  and  all  the  time  the  bar 
tender  was  quietly  taking  as  many  bets  as  possible  on  the 
roan  mare. 

Back  in  the  grove,  there  was  a  dancing  platform  and 
the  screech  of  a  fiddle  could  be  heard. 

The  program  of  the  day  began  with  a  blindfold  race  of 
fifty  yards;  then  a  chase  for  a  greased  pig;  and  after  this 
a  foot  race. 

It  was  a  queer  crowd,  made  up  of  a  different  class  of 
people  from  that  which  John  had  ever  seen  before. 
Mostly  New  York  people,  John  thought,  and  folks  from 
New  Jersey  and  Maryland  who  had  fallen  into  the  ways 
of  certain  Virginians  who  had  moved  into  the  neigh 
borhood. 

It  took  a  good  while  to  get  around  to  the  prime  event 
of  the  day,  but  when  at  last  the  horse  race  was  called 
there  was  a  buzz  of  excitement ;  the  screeching  fiddle 
ceased  and  people  came  trooping  from  the  grove,  the 
tavern  and  every  direction. 

Full  a  dozen  horses  moved  down  the  level  road  to  a 
big  tree  a  mile  away.  Several  were  just  plain,  sturdy  plow 


152  Time  and  Chance 

horses,  ridden  by  farmers'  boys;  others  were  ponies,  one 
was  a  pacing  saddle  horse,  then  there  was  the  docked 
hunter  and  the  sober  little  roan  mare,  ridden  by  a  bare 
foot  boy,  whose  close  cropped  hair  might  have  been  red, 
and  who  was  very  freckled.  John  climbed  a  tree  that 
stood  by  the  roadside,  and  clear  off  down  the  valley  he 
saw  the  flag  drop.  There  was  a  wild  scamper  of  horses 
coming  towards  him.  They  got  away  in  a  solid  mass, 
but  soon  strung  out. 

Hurricane  was  in  front  and  the  little  roan  mare  clear 
behind. 

John's  heart  sank  within  him  and  he  could  have  cried 
for  very  shame.  He  glanced  away  and  when  he  looked 
again  there  was  still  an  Indian  file  procession,  save  that 
Miss  Nancy  was  creeping  up  at  one  side.  John  breathed 
freer.  In  another  instant  Hurricane  and  the  roan  were 
neck  and  neck,  moving  as  a  double  team. 

On  they  came. 

It  's  a  tie,  it  's  a  tie,"  came  the  excited  shout  from 
a  score  of  throats.  They  were  within  fifty  yards  of  the 
scratch — forty — thirty,  and  the  roan  shot  forward  a  full 
length,  and  crossed  the  mark  two  lengths  ahead. 

A  stout  man  holding  a  watch  in  one  hand  and  ten 
silver  dollars  in  the  other  stepped  off  the  hotel  veranda. 
Making  his  way  through  the  crowd,  he  handed  up  the 
money  to  Jim  Golden  without  a  word. 

Jim  looked  about  for  John  and  soon  saw  him  up  in  the 
tree:  he  closed  one  eye  in  a  long,  solemn  wink  that  said 
very  plainly,  "  I  told  you  so." 

John  slid  down  and  the  boys  were  putting  on  their 
saddle  getting  ready  to  go.  The  landlord  came  pushing 
through  the  crowd:  "  You  aint  going,  boys  ?  " 

"  Yes." 
'  Why,  you  must  n't — stay  until  to-morrow,  it  won't 


Quieting  Qualms,  and  more  Adventure     153 

cost  you  a  cent — you  shall  have  the  best  room   in  my 
house! 

No,  we  must  go,"  answered  John. 
Now  look  here,  boys,  you  just  sha'n't  do  it — to-mor 
row  is  Sunday,  anyway,  you  know." 
'  That  's  so,  I  forgot,"  said  John. 
'  That  's  right,  be  sensible — this  fool  crowd  will  be 
out  of  the  way  soon  and  then  we  can  visit." 
"  Shall  we  stay,  Jim  ? " 

'  Yes,  that  pie  was  just  right — p'r'aps  there 's  another ! " 
So  they  stayed. 


CHAPTER    XV 

QUIETING    QUALMS,    AND    MORE   ADVENTURE 

OTRETCHING  south  from  Erie  was  a  wagon  road  to 
O  Pittsburg.  By  the  aid  of  appropriations  from  the 
Government,  which  used  the  road  for  military  purposes, 
this  road  had  attained  to  the  respectability  of  a  turnpike. 
From  Erie,  mails  were  regularly  dispatched  by  boat  to 
all  points  on  the  Great  Lakes ;  and  thus  Erie  came  to  be 
a  very  important  place  in  stage-coach  times. 

The  "  fast  mail"  that  made  the  trip  daily  from  Erie 
to  Pittsburg  at  the  wonderful  speed  of  nine  miles  an  hour, 
was  a  great  inciter  of  "  horse  "  in  the  minds  of  the  citi 
zens.  At  the  relay  stations,  every  fifteen  miles,  the  tav 
erns  did  a  good  business,  and  farmers  who  had  horses  fit 
to  take  a  place  in  the  fast  mail  service  got  good  prices 
for  their  steeds.  For  a  space  of  ten  miles  east  or  west  of 
the  turnpike,  the  settlers  had  gone  horse  crazy,  and 
thought  nothing  of  taking  a  day  off  to  see  a  "  hoss- 
race. 

When  night  settled  down  at  the  Cross  Roads  the  crowd 


154  Time  and  Chance 

had  disappeared.  There  was  left  behind  a  stale  odor  of 
beer  and  tobacco,  whiskey  and  hard  cider,  pickles  and 
ginger  bread.  A  banquet  hall  deserted  is  not  to  be  com 
pared  in  point  of  desolation  to  a  picnic  ground  forsaken. 

The  few  visitors  who  had  that  peculiar  temperament 
that  "  gets  drunk  in  the  legs  "  were  bundled  off  into  the 
haymow.  John  and  Mr.  Marden,  the  landlord,  sat  on 
the  porch,  enjoying  the  cool  of  the  day.  Out  in  the 
road  in  front  Harris  was  slowly  leading  Hurricane  back 
and  forth;  behind  him  trailed  Jim  with  Miss  Nancy. 

They  had  had  a  good  supper,  John  had  eight  dollars  in 
his  pocket,  Jim  had  seven  and  the  landlord  had  several 
hundred  and  the  Englishman  had  more  than  he  needed, 
all  as  the  result  of  one  day's  work. 

'  Yes,  it  's  a  godsend  to  these  hard-working  people — 
a  picnic  like  this — it  rests  'em  and  does  'em  good  morally 
and  physically,"  said  the  altruistic  landlord. 

"  How,  morally  ?"  asked  John. 

Makes  'em  happy — they  forget  their  troubles— all 
people  have  trouble — even  you  perhaps,  young  as  you 
are.  Now  have  n't  you  had  a  good  time  ?  " 

John  admitted  that  he  had. 

Well,  that  's  what  we  're  here  for — to  make  other 
folks  happy — that  's  my  religion." 

"  I — I — that  is,  I  did  not  know  before  that  you  were 
religious." 

Well,  I  am  not  so  dam  religious,  but  I  give  more  to 
that  church  over  there  than  all  the  town  put  together! " 

"  What  is  it— Methodist  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  reckon  not — we  had  a  Methody  preacher  here, 
but  he  had  too  much  to  say  on  the  horse  question  and 
the  boys  told  him  to  take  a  walk.  No,  sir-ee,  this  is 
Church  of  England — same  church  that  George  Washing 
ton  belonged  to!  " 


Quieting  Qualms,  and  mgre  Adventure     155 

"  Indeed ! " 

Yes,  I  see  you  are  religious,  too ;  you  must  go  with 
me  to-morrow — sit  in  my  pew!  " 

Harris  and  Jim  had  put  up  their  horses,  and  now  came 
over,  each  chewing  a  straw. 

'  Well,    my    lads  —  how  do  you    feel  ? "    asked   the 
landlord. 

Harris   put   on    an    air  of  gloom,    as  an    Englishman 
always  does  when  he  is  supremely  content;  Jim  grinned. 
"  Quite  a  horse  you  Ve  got,   Freckles,  and  you  ride 
like  a  regular  jock!  " 
Jim  broadened  the  grin. 

'It   's   none  o'  my  business,  but  I  half  believe  you 
know  a  deal  more  'bout  horse  racing  than  you  let  on." 

'  That  horse  of  ourn  was  hitched  up  with  a  cow  and  at 
work  all  the  fore  part  of  the  week." 

The  landlord  gave  a  long,  low  whistle,  then  burst  into 
a  laugh:  "  Hooked  with  a  cow!  " 
Yes,  that  's  what  I  said." 
Well,  I  Ve  an  idea." 
"  What  is  it  ?  " 

Hitch  her  up  again  with  a  cow,  then  drive  over  to 
Hemlockville  on  the  turnpike  and  clean  out  the  boys! 
Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha!  !" 

The  night  was  warm,  so  Jim  preferred  to  throw  down 
a  bundle  of  hay  and  sleep  in  the  barn,  thus  following  the 
example  of  Harris;  for  between  these  two  there  was 
quite  an  affinity. 

The  next  morning  Mr.  Harden  was  not  feeling  very 
well,  so  did  not  care  to  go  to  church ;  Harris  seldom  at 
tended  and  Jim  did  not  care  to  go,  so  John  and  Mrs. 
Marden — a  trim  little  woman — tripped  off  alone. 

It  was  John's  first  experience  in  an  Episcopal  church. 
At  first  he  was  inclined  to  resent  the  signs  of  "  popery" 


156  Time  and  Chance 

that  he  detected,  but  the  soft  playing  of  the  melo- 
deon,  and  gentle  thoughts  of  a  girl  in  blue  who  also 
probably  was  at  that  moment  in  an  Episcopal  church, 
soon  put  him  in  a  different  frame  of  mind. 

The  chancel  was  trimmed  with  green  branches  and 
wild  flowers,  and  the  little  attempts  at  beauty  meant  much 
to  his  sensitive,  receptive  nature. 

The  sermon  was  very  short  and  no  reference  was  made 
to  the  sin  of  horse-racing.  The  prayers  and  responses 
were  dignified,  the  singing  was  better  than  he  had  ever 
heard,  the  little  melodeon  was  so  well  played  that  it  sort 
of  brought  the  tears  to  John's  eyes. 

Only  a  few  people  were  present  but  they  were  all  so 
quiet,  so  polite  and  so  refined  that  John  could  not 
bring  himself  to  think  that  they  could  really  believe  in 
horse-racing.  His  conscience  was  troubling  him,  and  if 
he  could  only  keep  that  quiet,  he  thought  he  would  be 
really  happy.  The  eight  silver  dollars  were  heavy  in  his 
pocket  and  did  not  give  that  peace  to  his  soul  that  they 
should  have  lent.  When  the  plate  was  passed  he  dropped 
in  one  of  those  dollars  and  felt  considerably  better :  his 
money  was  being  used  for  the  service  of  God. 

He  resolved  that  when  the  meeting  was  out,  he  would 
wait  and  ask  what  the  preacher  thought  of  horse-racing. 

Mrs.  Marden  was  very  glad  to  introduce  him  to  the 
clergyman.  The  clergyman  was  very  glad  to  meet  him— 
had  noticed  him  in  fact — it  was  a  joy  to  preach  to  such 
a  receptive  listener,  etc.  John  was  pleased ;  he  had 
decided  he  would  not  trouble  such  a  nice  man  with  a 
foolish  question.  He  had  started  away  and  had  reached 
the  church  door,  when  a  sudden  determination  seized  him 
and  he  went  back  and  hurriedly  asked  the  rector  in  a 
whisper: 

Is  it  wrong  to  race  horses  ?  " 


Quieting  Qualms,  and  more  Adventure     157 

"  Once  more,  please — I  did  not  understand." 
"  Is  it  a  sin  to  race  horses  ?  " 

The  clergyman  laughed  softly,  looked  at  the  boy  and 
said : 

"  Oh  no,  not  if  you  run  a  good  honest  race." 
'  Then  I  suppose  one  should  make  good  use  of   his 
money  if  he  wins." 

'  Why,  certainly,  the  money  must  be  used  for  a  good 
purpose!  " 

Thank  you,"  said  John  and  hurried  away. 
Does  the  preacher  live  here  ?  "  asked  John. 
No,    he    lives  in    Hemlockville,    but   supplies   both 
places." 

The  next  morning  when  John  looked  out  of  his  window 
towards  the  stable,  he  noticed  that  the  big  barn  doors 
were  closed  and  he  could  hear  loud  laughter  coming  from 
within.  He  hurried  down  and  there  on  the  barn  floor  he 
saw  a  sight  that  made  his  eyes  bulge  with  amazement. 

Marden,  Harris,  and  Jim  had  hitched  a  four-year-old 
black  ox  up  to  a  rickety  old  cart,  and  there  harnessed 
alongside  of  that  dark  complexioned  beast  was  the  roan 
mare. 

John  looked  on  with  flashing  eyes — it  was  a  vile  in 
dignity  to  Miss  Nancy — an  ox,  and  a  black  one  at  that. 
The  ox  was  peacefully  chewing  his  cud,  and  Miss  Nancy 
took  the  situation  as  a  matter  of  course.  John  was  mad : 
Keep  quiet,  my  friend,  lay  low,  and  you  shall  have 
this  ox  and  cart  for  your  day's  work." 

Ha,  ha,  it  's  ourn,  it  's  ourn,   it  's  ourn !  "  laughed 
Jim  as  he  stood  on  his  head  in  the  hay. 

'  You  see,  there  's  a  rascal  of  a  landlord  over  on  the 
turnpike  that  I  want  to  get  even  with,"  continued  Mar- 
den.  '  He  's  awfully  stuck  up  and  thinks  he  has  the  best 
horses  on  earth.  Now,  if  you  drive  over  with  this  old  rig 


158  Time  and  Chance 

and  a  lot  of  traps  in  behind,  I  will  go  on  ahead  and  when 
you  get  there,  I  '11  bluff  him  into  a  race — you  can  beat 
him,  I  know,  and  if  you  do,  I  '11  give  you  the  ox  and 
cart." 

"  It  's  deceiving  him,  though." 

"  No,  it  's  not,  you  run  your  horse  against  his  and  I 
give  you  the  ox  for  pay." 

A  thought  came  that  sounded  like,  "  It  's  no  sin  if  you 
run  a  good  honest  race — it  's  no  sin  if  you  run  a  good 
honest  race!  " 

So  after  breakfast  they  started  away  in  the  cart.  Miss 
Nancy  was  the  most  sensible  horse  one  ever  saw.  She 
accepted  the  world  as  she  found  it  and  did  the  will  of  her 
master,  asking  no  questions.  Aside  from  a  few  nips  at 
Sambo's  neck  she  did  not  draw  the  color  line,  and 
made  no  boast  of  her  royal  blood.  And  as  for  Sambo, 
he  lumbered  along  at  a  good  fast  gait  for  so  fat  an  ox. 

A  few  burrs  in  the  tail  of  each,  and  a  splash  or  two  of 
mud  added  to  the  general  untidiness  of  the  mismating; 
while  the  rope  lines,  chain  harness  and  the  old  boxes  in 
the  cart  made  an  outfit  not  unlike  those  that  came  from 
over  the  hills  and  far  away,  and  such  as  one  can  see  in 
the  Southland  even  yet. 

Ask  the  way  to  Hemlockville,"  shouted  Marden  as 
he  rode  on  ahead,  "and  good  luck  to  you." 

It  was  near  noon  when  they  turned  into  the  dusty  stage 
road  that  led  to  Hemlockville,  a  mile  beyond.  They  could 
see  a  church  spire  lifting  itself  out  of  the  trees,  and  soon 
they  came  to  a  tavern  which  seemed  to  be  quite  a  busy 
place.  The  stage  with  four  horses  attached  had  just 
whisked  up  with  a  cracking  of  the  long  whip  and  a  blow 
ing  of  horns.  A  half-dozen  passengers  got  down  from 
the  top  and  several  others  alighted  from  the  inside. 
Loafers  and  idlers  appeared  from  nobody  knew  where. 


Quieting  Qualms,  and  more  Adventure     159 

In  front  of  the  tavern  was  a  watering  trough,  and 
straight  to  this  trough  moved  the  black  ox  and  his  mate. 

"  I  tell  you,  your  horse  is  a  plug — he  can't  run  as  fast 
as  a  sheep!  " 

"  Can't  eh!  ' 

'  No,  he  's  a  dunghill — why  that  crow-bait  there  at  the 
trough  can  beat  him  !  " 

Have  you  any  money  that  says  so  ?  " 
Yes,  I  have,  I  '11  bet  you  twenty-five  dollars." 
I  '11  just  take  that!     Here,  Captain — you  hold  these 
stakes." 

They  were  loud  angry  voices  and  the  crowd  had 
gathered  around  and  were  cheering  them  on. 

"  Here,  young  fellow,  can  your  horse  run  ?  " 

"  Never  was  in  a  race!  "  bawled  back  Jim  Golden. 

Well,  that  's  no  difference  — just  unhitch  him  and 
gallop  him  for  half  a  mile  against  this  lunatic's  dunghill 
and  I  '11  give  you  a  dollar,  whether  or  no." 

Marden  flung  the  dollar  out  into  the  dust  and  Jim 
jumped  down  and  picked  it  up.  John  and  Jim  began 
to  unhitch :  more  loafers  and  hangers-on  appeared. 

It  was  time  for  the  stage  to  start,  but  the  passengers 
begged  that  the  driver  hold  on  for  a  few  moments  that 
they  might  see  the  race.  In  fact  several  of  them  had 
made  small  bets  among  themselves,  and  even  the  driver 
had  put  up  a  dollar. 

The  horse  that  was  to  run  against  Miss  Nancy  was 
brought  out,  saddled  and  bridled.  He  was  a  bay  thor 
oughbred,  and  a  good  one.  But  there  was  a  hitch  some 
where  about  the  distance  or  the  judges,  and  the  longer 
the  delay,  the  greater  the  excitement. 

'  I  tell  you  I  saw  this  roan  mare  run  last  Saturday— 
this  is  a  trick— she  is  a  race  horse.  If  you  bet  against 
her,  you  lose." 


160  Time  and  Chance 

John  looked  around  and  saw  that  the  speaker  was  none 
other  than  the  clergyman  he  had  heard  preach  the  day 
before:  he  was  button-holing  a  friend.  John  made  no 
sign  of  knowing  him,  but  pushed  through  the  crowd  and 
made  the  discovery  that  men  were  betting  on  Miss 
Nancy.  But  the  strangers  on  the  stage  coach  were  put 
ting  up  money  on  the  bay. 

Jim  mounted  the  mare  bareback,  and  away  they  went 
down  the  road.     It  was  to  be  a  half-mile  dash. 
Soon  came  the  cry : 
'  They  're  off — they  're  off!  " 

There  was  a  cloud  of  dust,  the  crowd  parted  and  the 
horses  could  be  seen  coming  neck  and  neck.  They  held 
this  position  until  they  were  within  ten  yards  of  the 
stretch,  when  the  bay  drew  away  and  came  in  ahead  by 
half  a  length. 

'  The  bay  wins,"  called  the  judge. 

John  was  humiliated.  What  would  Marden  say?  But 
he  soon  found  out  what  Marden  would  say.  That  worthy 
came  and  with  his  back  half  turned  to  him  said : 

'  That  steer  is  yours,  and  so  is  the  cart — you  better 
git!" 

It  was  a  disorderly  crowd,  and  John  thought  it  best  to 
take  Marden's  advice  and  "  git."  So  did  Jim. 

They  hitched  up  and  moved    away,   while  the   stage 
went  off  with  a  rush  in  the  other  direction. 
Once  safely  out  of  town,  John  spoke: 
"  Could  n't  you  beat  him,  Jim  ?  " 

Yes,  but  golly,  it  would  'a'  cost  money,  see  this!  " 
He  handed  over  a  ten-dollar  bill. 
1  Where  did  you  get  this  ?  " 

Me  ?     Marse  Marden,  he  give  it  to  me  'cause  I  lost — 
Let  the  bay  in  first  and  you  have  the  steer,  the  cart 
and  this,'  says  he,  and  so  I  did." 


Tragedy  Camps  on  Their  Trail  161 

And  was  he  betting  on  the  other  horse  ?  " 
For  sure!  that  preacher  man,  he  told  'em  to  bet  on 
us — that  we  was  foolin'  'em — so  the  two  landlords  bet 
on  the  bay,  and  the  bay  he  win- — ha,  ha,  ha!  !  " 

John's  conscience  was  again  getting  troublesome.  It 
had  not  been  an  honest  race  :  but  the  only  thing  he  could 
do  was  to  use  the  money  for  a  good  purpose. 

But  was  n't  it  a  curious  thing — this  horse-racing! 
They  had  run  two  races,  once  they  had  beaten  and  both 
times  they  had  made  money. 

Jim  launched  out  into  wonderful  tales  of  racing  at 
Zanesville  when  he  rode  Colonel  Silverton's  horses;  but 
John  paid  little  attention  to  this  chatter,  his  thoughts 
being  far  away. 

But  he  had  decided  on  one  thing,  once  for  all :  that 
was  that  he  would  thereafter  "  run  an  honest  race,"  and 
of  this  he  was  very  sure,  "  he  would  use  his  money  for  a 
good  purpose." 


CHAPTER   XVI 

TRAGEDY   CAMPS   ON   THEIR   TRAIL 

THEY  stopped  at  a  farmer's  that  night  and  the  kind 
tiller  of  the  soil  offered  to  trade  them  a  black  ox  for 
their  horse,  so  they  would  have  a  matched  team,  but  the 
boys  declined.     Then  he  offered  to  trade  them  a  horse 
for  their  ox,  but  this  was  also  refused. 

'  We  raised  him  from  a  calf,"  said  Jim,  "  and  we  love 
him  'cause  he  's  an  orphan." 

Are  you  an  orphan  ?  "  asked  the  man. 
"  Yes.  " 
"  And  if  you  were  black,  you  'd  make  a  good  nigger." 


1 62  Time  and  Chance 

"  And  if  you  were  black,  you  'd  be  a  nigger  yourself," 
retorted  John. 

They  rigged  a  pair  of  adjustable  shafts  for  the  cart, 
and  led  Miss  Nancy  behind.  And  so  they  traveled 
straight  towards  Pittsburg,  or  Fort  Duquesne,  as  it  was 
still  often  called. 

John  had  decided  on  a  system ;  and  they  began  work 
ing  it  out  with  a  regularity  that  might  have  set  an  ex 
ample  to  the  planets. 

When  they  would  get  near  a  town  they  would  hitch 
the  ox  and  horse  together.  They  would  approach  the 
village  tavern  and  find  the  man  who  owned  the  barn. 
Then  John  would  simply  ask  if  he  wanted  to  race  horses. 
The  solemn,  business-like  manner  of  the  boy  would 
usually  raise  a  laugh  or  cause  a  smile  of  wonderment,  at 
least.  About  half  of  the  time  the  man  addressed  would 
say,  yes:  and  if  he  did  not  have  a  running  horse  of  his 
own,  would  find  someone  close  at  hand  who  had. 

John  did  not  bet :  he  made  a  purse ;  he  put  in  ten  dol 
lars  and  the  other  man  ten  dollars.  No  more  and  no 
less,  and  it  was  a  half-mile  dash  or  nothing. 

Miss  Nancy  knew  her  business  and  could  get  away  like 
a  flash  of  lightning.  She  was  never  beaten  and  she 
would  run  as  fast  or  as  slow  as  Jim  desired.  Once  they 
got  cheated  out  of  their  money  by  the  stakeholder  run 
ning  away,  but  only  once.  John  found  that  there  was 
considerable  honor  about  the  business  of  horse-racing 
after  all ;  for  even  gambling  has  its  code — its  sins  that 
are  venial  and  its  sins  that  are  mortal :  and  its  unpar 
donable  sin  is  to  turn  "  Welsher  "  and  run  away  with 
the  stakes. 

The  mails  from  the  South  reached  Pittsburg  by  the 
three  rivers  that  meet  there,  and  there  were  also  stage 
roads  leading  in  several  directions.  But  the  business 


Tragedy  Camps  on  Their  Trail  163 

road  of  all  was  the  one  leading  to  Philadelphia.  It  was 
a  vast  artery  of  traffic.  By  sticking  to  this  stage  road, 
the  boys  kept  in  a  "  horse  country."  The  relay  tavern 
always  supported  a  crack  runner,  and  sometimes  several. 
An  average  of  one  race  a  day  was  secured  by  applying 
at  every  barn.  Several  times  they  stopped  even  two  or 
three  days  to  accommodate  horses  that  were  sent  for. 
It  was  always  ten  dollars  and  half  a  mile;  just  that  or 
nothing. 

Occasionally  John's  conscience  would  awaken;  he  was 
not  very  happy  any  of  the  time ;  but  so  peculiar  is  this 
second  self  that  sits  over  against  us,  and  passes  judgment 
on  our  acts,  that  it  usually  allows  the  end  to  justify  the 
means.  The  Jesuitical  conscience  is  primarily  an  honest 
one — it  does  this  or  that,  that  good  may  follow;  and 
after  all,  who  shall  decide  when  this  maxim  is  right  or 
wrong,  "  By  their  fruits  ye  shall  know  them  "  ? 

Then  there  is  concrete  wisdom — or  folly — in  the 
proverb  that  all  is  fair  in  love  and  war.  Even  at  the 
early  age  of  sixteen  young  Brown  looked  at  life  as  a 
struggle  for  existence,  although  Darwin  was  a  name  he 
never  knew. 

He  was  a  "  soldier  of  the  cross  ";  life  was  a  "  war 
fare  "  ;  and  to  undo  the  "  infidel  "  was  proper  and  right 
— this  was  his  inward  argument,  and  the  other  self  for  a 
time  was  silenced.  And  the  reason  that  the  substance 
of  the  infidel  is  not  now  taken  for  holy  purposes,  as  in 
the  days  of  the  Canaanites,  is  simply  because  the  infidel 
strenuously  objects,  and  we  have  a  modicum  of  caution 
that  forbids  the  attempt.  But  having  done  the  act,  man 
can  justify  himself  in  anything. 

Tess  of  the  D'Urbervilles  committed  the  two  crimes 
at  which  society  does  not  wink — the  last  one  was  mur 
der:  she  was  hanged.  Yet  Thomas  Hardy,  Prophet, 


164  Time  and  Chance 

Philosopher,  Philanthropist,  uses  for  his  sub-title  these 
words :     The  record  of  a  pure  woman. 

Young  Brown  was  not  a  sinner — but  pish,  we  are  get 
ting  serious!  These  boys  had  a  beautiful  and  a  very  in 
telligent  little  horse,  and  this  horse  could  run  very  fast. 
So  these  boys  bet  that  this  horse  could  run  faster  than 
horses  owned  by  other  people.  And  as  for  the  burrs  in 
Miss  Nancy's  tail  and  mane,  and  the  chain  harness  and 
rope  lines,  and  the  black  ox,  Sambo,  who  looked  on  with 
big,  open,  wondering  eyes,  we  will  say  nothing.  No  one 
surely  can  be  so  captious  as  to  condemn  Sambo.  Prob 
ably  he  wished  he  could  run,  too,  and  perhaps  Miss  Nancy 
and  he  talked  the  thing  over  by  themselves. 

Anyway,  Sambo  cropped  the  short,  green  grass  along 
the  roadside,  and  was  very  happy.  He  was  no  stalled 
ox,  and  in  his  black  hide  there  was  no  hate.  Then  Miss 
Nancy  was  content  and  took  a  quiet  pride  in  her  smooth, 
dexterous  strength.  Jim  Golden  was  more  than  jubi 
lant,  and  chuckled  to  himself.  John  was  serious,  sober 
and  in  earnest. 

His  face  had  grown  long  and  had  taken  on  a  manly 
turn.  His  eyes  were  large  and  wide  apart,  his  chin 
strong,  his  mouth  firm,  but  there  was  about  the  lad  an 
abstracted  far-away  intentness  that  youth  is  better  off 
without.  They  had  reached  Philadelphia.  Sewed  up  in 
a  belt  John  carried  three  hundred  dollars. 

What  you  goin'  to  do  with  all  your  money,  I  dun- 
no  ?"  asked  Jim. 

'  Yes,  I  was  going  to  explain — that  money  is  to  be 
sent  to  Colonel  Silverton  to  pay  for  Miss  Nancy  and  when 
we  get  enough  I  '11  pay  for  you,  too!  " 

Jim  was  astonished.  Why  pay  money  to  Colonel  Sil 
verton  ?  He  was  far  away — did  not  even  know  their 
whereabouts — besides,  he  had  enough  money  anyway. 


Tragedy  Camps  on  Their  Trail  165 

But  John  explained  that  in  Ohio  colored  men  and 
horses  were  property.  They  must  not  be  taken  away 
unless  they  were  paid  for,  and  at  last  Jim  was  satisfied. 
In  fact  it  could  not  be  otherwise,  for  his  mind  must  shape 
itself  after  the  other's. 

So  John  wrote  a  letter  to  Colonel  Silverton,  telling  him 
he  had  taken  the  horse  and  boy  because  it  seemed  God's 
plan ;  but  that  they  should  be  paid  for  to  the  last  cent. 
He  sent  the  three  hundred  dollars  on  account  and  asked 
Colonel  Silverton  to  send  a  receipt  to  Plainfield,  Conn., 
in  care  of  Rev.  Doctor  Melden. 

The  letter  and  money  were  placed  in  a  canvas  bag,  and 
this  tied  up  and  sealed  by  the  express  agent;  a  tag  was 
addressed  bearing  the  inscription :  Col.  Maurice  Silver- 
ton,  Zanesville,  O. 

John  had  only  ten  dollars  left  in  his  pocket,  Jim  had  a 
few  cents  more,  but  what  of  that:  they  had  Miss  Nancy 
and  she  could  earn  more !  so  John  patted  the  pretty  mare, 
and  Jim  kissed  her  on  the  nose  and  they  moved  on  out 
of  the  city. 

Bordentown,  but  a  few  miles  up  the  Delaware  River 
from  Philadelphia,  has  been  a  great  horse  town  from  the 
time  of  Washington. 

The  boys  applied  at  the  stage  barn  as  usual  and  found 
quite  a  stable  of  racers.  John  offered  to  run  his  horse 
against  any  one  of  them. 

The  purse  was  made  up  and  full  fifty  men  adjourned 
to  the  race  track  across  the  fields.  With  little  prelimi 
nary,  the  flag  fell  and  the  horses  got  away  quickly.  The 
horse  that  ran  against  Miss  Nancy  was  a  black  stallion 
and  a  fast  one.  He  kept  his  lead  for  full  half  the  dis 
tance,  when  Jim  sent  Miss  Nancy  forward.  Her  nose 
came  even  with  the  other's  flank — then  to  the  saddle — 
then  neck  and  neck.  Jim  knew  exactly  what  he  was 


i66  Time  and  Chance 

doing — he  could  send  the  mare  ahead  at  any  instant — the 
other  horse  was  doing  his  best.  The  rider  of  the  black 
applied  his  whip,  but  the  horse  could  not  respond.  The 
reckless  rider  in  anger  reached  forward  and  struck  Miss 
Nancy  a  slashing  blow  over  the  head.  The  whip  struck 
her  in  the  eye  and  she  swerved  to  one  side;  in  her  blind 
ness  she  dashed  full  against  the  fence.  Horse  and  rider 
fell  in  a  heap.  Jim  scrambled  out  unhurt. 

John  came  running  out  on  the  track,  and  as  he  ap 
proached,  the  mare  struggled  to  her  feet  and  whinnied. 
She  stood  on  three  legs,  for  the  right  fore  leg  was  broken 
in  two  places  so  that  the  jagged  bones  protruded  through 
the  skin. 

Again  the  mare  called  and  put  out  her  nose  to  her 
young  master  in  a  mute  appeal  for  help. 

At  a  glance  John  saw  the  extent  of  her  injury. 

He  drew  from  his  pocket  a  sheath-knife,  and  feeling 
softly  for  the  pulsing  jugular,  sent  the  keen  blade  home 
with  one  strong  stroke. 


CHAPTER    XVII 

THE   DESTINATION   REACHED   AT   LAST 

THE  rider  of  the  black  hotly  denied  that  he  had  struck 
the  other  horse.  All  saw  him  do  it,  but  the  strangers 
were  boys  and  these  were  men.  The  stakeholder  decided 
that  the  roan  mare  had  swerved  from  the  track  on  account 
of  "  blind  staggers,"  and  as  the  black  horse  came  in  first, 
his  owner  was  entitled  to  the  money. 

Sambo  was  lying  down  in  the  dusty  road  peacefully 
chewing  his  cud.  Jim  fell  on  his  neck  and  cried  aloud, 
and  Sambo  ceased  chewing  and  looked  up  at  him  and 
was  sorry. 


The  Destination  Reached  at  Last          167 

Sambo  arose  to  his  feet  and  John  and  Jim  got  into  the 
cart ;  and  they  went  lumbering  out  of  the  village,  fol 
lowed  by  the  jeers  and  laughter  of  the  tavern  loafers. 

At  Trenton  the  boys  found  work  at  a  farmer's,  and 
hoed  corn  for  three  days,  each  getting  a  dollar  for  his 
toil :  then  they  moved  on  toward  New  York. 

John  read  Plutarch  aloud  as  the  slow  miles  were  turned 
off,  and  Jim  was  interested  to  about  the  same  extent  that 
Sambo  was,  save  when  there  was  fighting  or  chariot  racing. 
In  which  case  he  would  usually  take  sides,  and  if  "  his 
side  "  won  he  would  be  jubilant,  or  if  it  lost  he  would  be 
depressed. 

But  John  had  a  buoyant  spirit  and  his  hope  was  high, 
yet  over  it  all  was  a  tinge  of  gray. 

'  What  is  you  goin'  to  do  when  you  git  there,  John  ? " 
asked  Jim  one  day. 

"  I  'm  going  to  study — get  an  education.  My  mother's 
brother — my  own  mother's  brother,  lives  at  Plainfield, 
you  know — he  is  a  preacher  and  always  wanted  me  to 
come  there.  He  has  hundreds  of  books  and  I  am  going 
to  read  them  all." 

Lordy !  but  you  will  be  smart ;  and  what  am   I  to 
do  ?" 

Oh,  there  is  plenty  of  work  there — you  can  always 
get  good  wages." 

And  so  it  came  to  pass  that  after  many  days'  journey 
ing  they  reached  the  thriving  village  of  Plainfield.  They 
enquired  the  way  to  the  residence  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Mel- 
den  and  were  directed  to  a  little  house  that  stood  in  a 
grove  of  pines.  The  house  was  painted  white  and  it  had 
green  blinds,  and  this  looked  very  gorgeous  to  the  boys, 
for  only  the  very,  very  rich  painted  their  houses  "  out 
West." 

A  sinking  came  over  John's  hopeful  attitude  now  that 


1 68  Time  and  Chance 

the  end  of  the  journey  had  been  reached.  He  had  never 
seen  this  uncle  —  had  only  heard  him  spoken  of  —  and 
Doctor  Meldon  sort  of  loomed  out  of  the  misty  nothing 
ness  like  one  of  Plutarcti s  heroes.  And  whose  heart 
would  not  beat  fast  when  approaching  a  home  where  he 
was  about  to  ask  for  Mr.  Lucullus ! 

Then  John  took  a  swift  inward  glance  and  he  per 
ceived  that  this  long  journey  was  not  so  much  to  find 
Dr.  Melden  as  to  get  away  from  his  own  restlessness  and 
satisfy  some  seething,  undefined  ambition.  He  would 
have  turned  and  gone  away ;  or  if  the  man  of  whom  he 
had  just  enquired  had  said  that  Dr.  Melden  had  been 
dead  for  ten  years,  he  would  not  have  been  very  much 
disappointed. 

They  left  Sambo  to  graze  by  the  roadside  and  were 
now  walking  toward  the  house.  The  place  looked  restful 
and  inviting  there  in  its  mass  of  sheltering  green.  It  com 
manded  respect  and  the  boys  moved  around  to  the  back 
door  as  a  matter  of  course.  An  elderly  Irish  woman 
answered  their  rap. 

Yis,   the    Docthur   lives   here — are   ye's    beggars,   I 
dunno  ?  " 

1(  No,  ma'am,  we  are  n't  beggars,  we  are — 

"  Niver  mind  if  ye  be — even  if  ye  be  beggars,  it  's  all 
the  same  to  him  providin'  ye  air  clane — he  '11  feed  no 
body  that  's  dhirty !  He  's  takin'  his  nap — ye  '11  just 
have  time  to  take  a  schrubbin'  in  the  creek  down  yander 
and  the  Docthur  'ull  be  up — 

'  You  mean  we  should  go  swimming  ?    It  's  October!  " 
An'  don't  I  schrub  me   flure  in  November  ?     It  's 
Injun  summer — go  on  wid  ye — I  '11  never  lit  ye  into  the 
presence  loike  that!  " 

John  looked  at  Jim;  Jim  looked  at  John. 

John    saw   that    Jim    was   travel-stained,    dusty,    dis- 


The  Destination  Reached  at  Last          169 

beveled,  as  men  who  sleep  in  their  clothes  always  are. 
Haymows,  barns,  caves,  and  the  earth  had  placed  their 
odors  and  marks  on  the  boys. 

"  You  do  need  a  cleaning  up,"  said  Jim  to  John. 

"  But  not  so  bad  as  you,"  said  John  to  Jim. 

The  woman  pointed  the  way  to  the  creek,  and  handing 
them  each  a  coarse  towel,  they  started  away. 

While  the  boys  are  taking  a  much  needed  bath,  let  us 
say  a  word  about  the  man  who  owned  the  white  cottage. 

Dr.  Melden  was  what  we  would  to-day  call  a  superan 
nuated  minister.  He  was  near  eighty  years  of  age,  and 
men  thirty  years  of  age  said  they  had  not  seen  a  particle 
of  change  in  the  man  or  in  his  way  of  life  since  they  stole 
his  cherries  in  childhood.  If  you  had  asked  the  neighbors 
how  long  he  had  lived  in  Plainfield,  they  would  have 
replied :  "  Always." 

From  an  orthodox  point  of  view  we  cannot  state  Dr. 
Melden's  religious  convictions.  His  opinion  on  original 
sin,  the  vicarious  atonement,  justification  by  faith,  elec 
tion  of  the  saints  and  the  state  of  the  heathen  who  die  in 
sin,  are  all  matters  of  conjecture.  In  his  younger  days 
he  had  been  very  zealous  in  the  faith  and  had  defended 
the  letter  of  the  creed  with  great  power;  but  some  peo 
ple  thought  his  mind  had  given  way  just  a  little,  for  on 
the  doctrinal  points  of  theology  he  could  not  now  be 
brought  into  an  argument. 

Occasionally  he  would  preach  for  the  regular  pastors 
roundabout  when  they  went  on  journeys  or  vacations; 
couples  would  sometimes  come  to  him  from  long  dis 
tances  to  be  married,  as  a  sort  of  superstition  had  gotten 
out  that  his  blessing  had  a  potency  beyond  that  of  other 
ministers,  and  this  belief  had  spread  among  parents,  too, 
as  many  children  were  brought  to  him  for  baptism. 

He  was  kind,  gentle,  benevolent,  cheerful,  and  had  no 


170  Time  and  Chance 

word  of  blame  for  any  man  or  anything.  His  life  was 
pure  affirmation.  He  said,  "  Do  this,"  but  never,  "  Thou 
shalt  not." 

Such  a  man  as  this  is  always  a  sort  of  central  sun 
around  which  swing  the  lesser  planets:  there  were  always 
a  half-dozen — more  or  less— of  young  men  preparing  for 
college  who  came  to  him  to  recite.  If  these  youths  had 
money  they  paid  him  small  sums  for  their  instruction, 
and  if  they  had  no  money  it  made  no  difference — they 
were  just  as  welcome. 

So  it  will  be  seen  that  Doctor  Melden  had  a  little  in 
come  :  it  was  not  much,  but  his  wants  were  few  and  so  he 
lived,  rilling  his  days  full  of  good  work  in  study,  giving 
instruction  or  tilling  his  little  farm. 

Only  two  persons  lived  in  the  white  cottage  with  Dr. 
Melden — these  were  an  old  Irish  couple.  Paddy  McBride 
and  his  wife  had  their  apartments  and  Dr.  Melden  had 
his  two  little  rooms.  His  table  was  spread  in  the  room 
that"  served  for  study  and  parlor,  while  Paddy  and  Mrs. 
McBride  ate  in  the  kitchen.  This  made  quite  a  little 
scandal,  years  before,  among  the  neighbors,  because  it 
proved  the  pride  of  the  Doctor;  but  these  good  people 
quite  forgot  how  a  mob  had  threatened  to  drive  old 
Paddy  and  his  wife  out  of  town  because  they  were 
Catholics,  and  hearing  of  it,  Dr.  Melden  had  at  once 
hired  them  to  come  and  work  for  him.  This  made  their 
position  secure,  for  old  Dr.  Melden  had  the  respect  of 
three-fourths  of  the  people  in  the  neighborhood  and  the 
love  of  the  rest. 

And  in  the  interest  of  unsullied  truth,  let  us  place  on 
record  the  fact  that  Paddy  McBride  and  his  wife  did  not 
eat  at  the  same  table  with  Dr.  Melden,  simply  because 
Paddy  McBride  and  his  wife  preferred  to  eat  by  them 
selves. 


The  Destination  Reached  at  Last          171 

The  prefix  of  "  Old  "  usually  went  with  the  Doctor's 
title,  thus:  Old  Doctor  Melden.  And  it  is  a  significant 
fact  that  this  word  "  Old  "  is  either  a  reproach  or  a  com 
pliment,  according  to  whether  a  man  has  lived  good  or  ill. 

In  Old  Doctor  Melden's  case  the  word  "  Old  "  was 
simply  synonymous  with  "  The  Reverend." 

The  boys  came  back  from  the  creek  slightly  improved 
in  appearance,  but  greatly  improved  in  feeling,  for  clean 
liness  is  psychologic  as  well  as  ethical. 
'  The  Docthur  says  to  show  ye  in." 

The  boys  pulled  off  their  hats  as  boys  do  when  they  feel 
that  they  are  approaching  superiority,  and  entered  the 
little  parlor. 

Come  right  in,  young  gentlemen,  come  right  in  and 
tell  me  what  I  can  do  for  you." 

The  old  gentleman  sat  in  an  easy  chair,  an  open  book 
on  his  knees.  His  hair  was  snow  white  and  his  clean 
shaven  pink  face  beamed  with  good  nature. 

I   am — I   am  John   Brown  of  the  Western  Reserve 


Yes,  yes,  my  boy !  " 

The  old  man  did  not  arise,  but  held  out  his  hands. 
John  approached  and  Old  Doctor  Melden's  blue  eyes 
half  filled  with  tears  as  he  said:  "  Yes,  yes,  you  are  my 
sister's  boy.  My  !  my  !  you  are  a  fine  strong  fellow — you 
are  surprised  that  I  know  you !  and  then  how  did  I  know 
that  you  were  coming  straight  to  me  from  the  other  side 
of  the  world  ?  Clear  from  the  Western  Reserve!  and 
this  is  not  your  brother — come  closer,  my  lad,  let  me 
place  my  hand  on  your  head — Goodness  me !  you  Ve 
been  in  swimming!  would  n't  Mrs.  McBride  let  you  see 
me  until  you  had  taken  a  bath  ?  How  that  woman  does 
literalize!  " 

The  old  man  had  the  boys  standing  in  front  of  him 


172  Time  and  Chance 

and  was  looking  them  over  with  delight.     The  rags  and 
travel  stain  were  nothing  to  him. 

"  But  who  is  this  boy  ?  You  did  not  say,  John,  tell 
me." 

1  He  is  a  negro,  sir,  he  is  a  slave." 

Out  it  came,  suddenly,  abruptly,  all  without  thought. 
He  had  told  that  which  he  had  inwardly  vowed  again 
and  again  he  would  reveal  to  no  one. 

In  Connecticut  he  intended  to  swear,  if  necessary,  that 
Jim  Slivers  was  James  Golden  and  that  he  was  white,  yet 
almost  at  the  first  sentence  he  had  spoken  truth.  But 
then  Doctor  Melden  invited  truth — only  once  or  twice  in 
a  lifetime  do  we  meet  a  person  to  whom  we  may  confess 
all. 

"  Oh,  no,  he  's  not  a  slave,"  said  the  old  gentleman — 
"  he  's  not  a  slave,  he  's  God's  free  child,  just  like  you 
and  me." 

'  No,"  said  John,  "  you  do  not  understand — I  must 
tell  you  all  about  it.  We  ran  away  and  stole  a  horse, 
we —  " 

"  My  dear  boy,  just  tell  Mrs.  McBride  I  wish  to  see 
her — Oh,  Bridget,  please  set  the  table  for  three — these 
are  my  nephews.  Did  you  wet  their  heads  ? " 

"  Sure,  and  they  needed  it,  yer  honor!  Yis,  I  '11  make 
tay  at  wanst. " 

Bridget  tried  to  courtesy  as  she  did  in  the  days  of  her 
youth.  She  cast  a  suspicious  glance  at  the  two  nephews. 
Old  Doctor  Melden  was  often  imposed  upon  by  mendi 
cants  :  Bridget  felt  sure  that  this  was  only  another  item 
in  the  long  list. 

"  Oh,  I  forgot,  I  have  a  letter  for  you,  John,  it  came 
yesterday!  It  's  in  that  pigeon-hole — no,  the  other — 
bring  the  whole  package,  please." 

John  handed  the  old  man  the  package;  he  took  out 


Disturbing  News  from  Zanesville  173 

a  blue-tinted    missive  and    handed   it  to    the   mystified 
youth. 

It  was  the  first  letter  John  Brown  had  ever  received. 
He  turned  the  packet  over  and  looked  at  the  seal,  then 
he  read  the  inscription,  then  the  post-mark  and  in  the 
corner  his  blurred  vision  made  out  these  words: 
FROM    MARGARET   SILVERTON, 

ZANESVILLE,  OHIO. 


CHAPTER    XVIII 

DISTURBING   NEWS   FROM   ZANESVILLE 

HOW  did  the  letter  get  here  ?     John  could  not  guess. 
He  had  forgotten  that  the  stage  coach  made  the 
astonishing  time  of  eight  miles  an  hour,  day  and  night. 

He  broke  the  seal  and  unfolded  the  letter.  A  faint, 
undefinable  odor  of  violets  stole  out  upon  his  senses;  he 
caught  a  vision  of  a  blue  dress,  and  his  head  began  to 
swim. 

'  Read  it  to  me,  please !  " 

Dr.  Melden  took  the  letter,  adjusted  his  glasses,  and 
read : 

ZANESVILLE,  Sept.  15,  1816. 
DEAR  JOHN  BROWN: 

The  money  which  you  sent  to  my  father  was  received  last 
night.  When  Mamma  read  your  letter  she  wept  for  joy  to 
think  that  we  had  such  a  friend  as  you.  You  know  the  extent  of 
our  tribulation  and  you  have  adopted  this  most  generous  plan 
in  order  to  assist  us;  but  your  delicacy  in  avoiding  that  which 
might  wound  our  pride  has  had  a  peculiar  effect  on  me.  I 
would  rather  you  had  written  frankly  and  plainly  and  then  it 
would  be  easy  for  me  to  answer  you  with  the  same  unreserved 


1 74  Time  and  Chance 

frankness.  You  are  good  and  noble  and  yet  I  have  made  you 
juggle  with  truth.  You  say  you  purpose  sending  us  money  to 
pay  for  the  negro  boy,  Jim  Slivers;  when  the  real  fact  is  that 
you  did  not  take  Jim  Slivers.  The  seven  slaves  ran  away,  but 
they  were  all  caught  by  the  man  who  bought  them,  and  sent 
South.  And  supposing  you  had  Jim  Slivers  with  you,  would 
you  write  back  here  telling  his  owner  of  the  fact  ? 

You  want  to  help  me,  and  you  assume  that  I  do  not  know 
what  became  of  Jim  Slivers,  so  you  tell  me  an  untruth.  This 
grieves  me,  for  my  dream  is  that  you  will  never  tell  me  or  any 
one  aught  save  fact.  I  am  just  your  age,  but  at  our  time  of 
life  a  woman  is  older  than  a  man  and  so  I  take  the  liberty  of 
advising  you  what  to  do. 

You  doubtless  heard  that  my  father's  creditors  all  came 
upon  him  at  once  and  took  all  of  his  property,  including  the 
homestead.  You  of  course  know,  too,-  that  his  mind  tottered 
and  he  died  by  his  own  hand,  but  I  suppose  that  you  did  not 
know  that  both  of  my  brothers  have  gone  to  New  Orleans  to 
find  work,  and  were  it  not  for  the  three  hundred  dollars  you 
sent,  Mamma  and  I  would  have  been  absolutely  destitute. 

If  we  had  always  been  poor  I  would  then  have  been  taught 
to  sew  and  cook  and  scrub,  but  as  it  is,  I  seem  so  helpless. 
As  soon  as  my  brothers  find  employment  we  will  be  cared  for, 
and  anyway,  I  can  earn  something. 

I  suppose  you  have  gone  to  study  so  as  to  be  a  preacher,  but 
how  sudden  it  was — you  did  not  tell  me  you  were  going  right 
away! 

Mamma  and  I  are  very  sure  that  you  will  make  a  great  and 
good  man,  and  we  pray  every  night  that  God  may  be  with  you 
and  direct  you  aright. 

With  sincere  regard,  I  am, 

Yours, 

MARGARET  SILVERTON. 

What  a  gently  sweet  letter  it  is!  "     The  old  gentle 
man  sighed  as  he  took  off  his  glasses.       '  What  a  sweet 


Disturbing-  News  from  Zanesville  175 

letter — '  we  pray  every  night  that  God  may  direct  you 
aright ' — why,  do  you  know,  boys — well,  yes,  it  is  a  fact, 
I  can  show  you  a  whole  bundle  of  letters  that  my  wife 
wrote  me  fifty  years  ago  that  sound  like  that — have  the 
same  sort  of  spiritual  fragrance.  Why,  what 's  the  matter, 
John  ? " 

The  youth's  eyes  were  glassy  and  his  face  was  marble 
in  its  dumbness. 

I — I — I  did  not  understand  what  it  was  in  that  letter 
— will  you  read  it  again,  and  who  did  you  say  it  was 
from  ? " 

Oh,  I  did  n't  read  the  signature — I  'm  so  careless— 
but  my  wife  never  signed  her  name  at  all — just  filled  up 
the  'page  and  stopped,  and  that  last  clause  some  way 
made  me  think  of  her.  Now  let  me  see,  M-a-r-  Margaret 
Silverton  —  that  's  the  name,  Margaret  Silverton.  It  is 
headed  Zanesville,  no  State,  but  probably  Ohio — '  Dear 
John  Brown  '- 

The  white-haired  man  read  the  letter  through  slowly, 
folded  it  and  handed  it  back.  John's  face  burned  scarlet 
—he  stepped  forward — the  room  seemed  to  spin — he 
burst  into  tears.  The  tall  old  man  arose  and  folded  him 
in  his  arms  as  he  might  a  woman. 

The  supper  things  is  gettin'  cowld  an'  there  '11  be 
icicles  on  the  tay  pot  if  ye  don't  ate  soon !  "  said  Mrs. 
McBride  as  she  thrust  her  head  in  from  the  kitchen. 

'  There,  there!  we  forgot  all  about  supper — we  three 
boys,  together — and  boys  generally  have  good  appetites, 
too.  Sit  here,  John,  and  you,  James,  on  the  other  side — 
never  mind,  Bridget,  I  can  pour  the  tea — we  like  it  a  little 
cool,  anyway!  " 

Mrs.  McBride  disappeared. 

"  I  '11  wait  on  table  if  Marse  Melden  don't  mind,  then 
I  '11  eat  in  the  kitchen,  afterward." 


176  Time  and  Chance 

"  No,  you  sit  down,  James." 

"  I  'se  caught  and  sent  south,"  chuckled  Jim  as  he 
sidled  into  a  chair. 

"  Oh,  so  you  are  the  Jim  Slivers  mentioned  in  the  let 
ter,  are  you  ?  " 

"  No,  I  'se  gone  south." 

"  Yes,"  said  John  with  a  look  of  rebuke  at  Jim.  '  Yes, 
his  name  is  James  Golden  now,  but  he  is  the  person  that 
Mar — I  mean  Miss  Margaret  refers  to.  I  don't  under 
stand  it  though,  things  have  got  so  mixed." 

"  I  see,  you  were  trying  to  do  good  by  stealth — sugar 
and  milk  in  your  tea?  you  can't  deceive  a  good  woman, 
though — help  yourself  to  bread,  James — I  have  tried  it." 

"  But  I  have  not  tried  to  deceive  anyone — I  did  not 
know  at  all  about  these  troubles  that  have  come  to  the 
Silvertons!  " 

"  Is  Marse  de  Kuhnel  dead  for  sure  ?  "  asked  Jim. 

"  Yes — Margaret  says  so — he  died  by  his  own  hand." 

"  What  's  that !  killed  hisself  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Shoot,  drown,  pizen  or  hang  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know." 

"  Lordy,  I  '11  bet  he  hanged  hisself  in  the  barn — got 
up  in  the  haymow,  tied  a  rope  to  a  rafter,  then  round  his 
neck — count  three  and  jump  off  into  hell — he  tried  it 
once  after  he  had  been  on  a  two  weeks'  booze!  " 

The  free  and  easy  tramp  life  they  had  been  living;  the 
stimulus  of  the  sudden  good  fortune  of  being  welcomed, 
together  with  the  news  of  his  old  master's  death,  which 
he  felt  freed  him,  had  tended  to  loosen  Jim's  tongue. 
He  might  have  talked  considerable  were  it  not  for  a  warn 
ing  kick  from  John  under  the  table  which  caused  him  to 
relapse  into  a  sphinx-like  silence.  After  supper  he  went 
out  to  attend  to  Sambo,  who  was  grazing  about  just  as  if 


Disturbing  News  from  Zanesville  177 

a  cart  was  a  piece  of  natural  impedimenta  that  every 
good  ox  should  tolerate.  Then  he  assisted  Mrs.  McBride 
in  washing  the  dishes,  much  to  that  worthy  woman's 
surprise  that  a  boy  could  be  so  handy  in  a  kitchen.  And 
all  the  while  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  Mr.  Paddy 
McBride,  who  had  come  from  his  work. 

Meanwhile  John  sat  on  an  ottoman  at  the  feet  of  Old 
Dr.  Melden,  and  told  all  concerning  his  acquaintanceship 
with  the  Silvertons:  of  how  he  had  helped  Slivers  run 
away:  of  taking  the  horse,  the  racing,  the  sending  the 
money  to  Zanesville,  and  of  the  death  of  Miss  Nancy. 
Here  Doctor  Melden  sighed.  The  death  of  the  horse 
affected  him  strangely — it  seemed  to  touch  him  like  an 
old  sorrow. 

'  You  killed  her,  John  ?  " 

'  Yes,  I  had  to,  her  leg  was  broken,  so  I  put  her  out 
of  misery." 

Yes,  yes — I  forgot — it  was  only  a  horse — but  then 
all  life  is  from  God !  but  you  did  it  in  pity,  yes,  it  was 
right.  But  now  you  are  here  safe — I  need  you.  Your 
mother  used  to  write  me  long  letters  about  you  and  tell 
me  how  she  proposed  to  send  you  back  here  to  study 
with  me,  and  now  you  are  here.  No  one  wrote  of  your 
coming — only  that  letter  came  for  you  and  then  I  sort  of 
worked  it  all  out  in  a  dream.  I  knew  you  were  on  the 
way,  so  I  was  not  surprised  when  you  came.  Now  how 
old  are  you,  John  y  " 
Seventeen." 

Only  seventeen — why  I  thought  you  were  nineteen, 
at  least — -you  might  even  pass  for  twenty.  But  Mar 
garet  loves  you  and  you  love  her,  and  on  such  a  love,  I 
am  sure  that  God  smiles  a  benediction ;  but  you  are 
young,  John ;  you  must  stay  with  me  and  study  and  you 
will  become  a  great  and  good  man ;  you  will  preach  truth 


178  Time  and  Chance 

to  thousands;  you  will  make  the  world  better  and  you 
will  do  the  work  that  I  have  neglected  to  do.  You  are 
only  a  boy  now,  but  after  a  few  years  you  can  go  back 
after  Margaret  and  she  will  help  you,  but  by  that  time  I 
will  be  gone  !  " 

"  Oh,  no,  you  must  wait  until  you  see  her." 

My  wife  died  forty-one  years  ago,  John — it  only 
seems  yesterday  that  she  passed  on,  and  do  you  know, 
my  boy,  I  'm  growing  a  little  impatient  to  go  to  meet 
her.  If  I  were  superstitious  I  might  say  her  spirit  is  with 
me  now;  but  never  mind  that,  I  must  stay  to  help  you." 

"  Docthur  Melden,  is  the  red-haired  boy  to  shleep  in 
the  barn,  I  dunno — he  's  yawnin'  so  you  can  see  his  back 
teeth,  and  tryin'  to  prop  his  peepers  open,  he  's  that 
shleepy." 

Oh,  I  forgot  him  almost.  Bring  in  the  candles, 
please,  and  we  will  have  prayers  and  the  boys  can  go  to 
bed — they  will  sleep  in  the  spare  room." 

"  An'  it  's  lucky  fer  the  shates  that  I  made  'em  take  a 
schwim !  " 

Paddy  McBride  put  on  his  coat  and  made  his  toilet  by 
running  his  fingers  through  his  hair:  then  he  entered  the 
little  parlor,  followed  by  Jim  and  Mrs.  McBride.  Doc 
tor  Melden  drew  his  chair  up  to  the  table  and  read  a 
short  passage  from  the  Psalms ;  then  all  bowed  their 
heads  in  silence.  After  a  pause  Doctor  Melden  repeated 
a  brief  prayer  and  John  did  not  think  it  strange  that  he 
closed  with  the  words:  "  We  pray  that  Thy  watchful 
care  will  be  over  those  whom  we  love,  and  in  all  their 
actions  may  they  be  guided  aright.  Amen." 


Oh!  The  Weariness  of  Waiting!  179 

CHAPTER  XIX 

OH  !   THE   WEARINESS   OF   WAITING  ! 

JOHN  was  making  progress  in  his  studies — very  slow 
progress,  he  thought.  He  constantly  reverted  to 
the  subject  of  co-education  and  he  concluded  that  if  he 
were  studying  with  a  certain  tall,  slender,  fair-haired  girl 
in  blue  he  could  solve  any  problem  in  mathematics  that 
might  be  produced.  Then  grammar  was  hard — this  pars 
ing  of  sentences — but  Margaret  could  understand  and 
she  would  make  it  plain  to  him.  Yet  Dr.  Melden  was 
very  patient,  very  gentle  and  always  full  of  encourage 
ment. 

Every  forenoon  they  worked  at  the  lessons,  and  in  the 
afternoons  there  was  wood  to  chop,  crops  to  gather  or 
carpenter  work  to  attend  to,  for  labor  with  one's  hands 
was  a  part  of  Dr.  Melden's  creed. 

Jim  had  forsaken  books  for  the  saw-mill;  he  did  a 
man's  work  and  was  getting  rich  at  the  rate  of  a  dollar  a 
day. 

So  winter  settled  down  and  the  snow  lay  deep  and 
smooth  over  the  New  England  hills.  Paddy  McBride 
had  fallen  in  love  with  Sambo  and  Sambo  returned  the 
affection,  and  between  the  two,  great  piles  of  wood  were 
accumulating  in  the  back  yards  of  various  neighbors;  all 
of  which  added  to  Paddy's  worldly  prosperity.  So  all 
were  very  busy,  and  very  happy.  The  presence  of  the 
young  men  in  the  house  had  given  Dr.  Melden  a  new 
lease  of  life,  and  he  declared  that  Fate  had  reversed  the 
flying  spindle  and  that  he  was  growing  younger  every 
day. 

A  letter  was  dispatched  to  Ruth  Crosby,  a  long  letter 
of  news  and  good  cheer  and  high  hope.  To  be  sure, 


180  Time  and  Chance 

John's  plans  were  a  bit  misty  and  undefined,  but  the 
spirit  of  self-reliance  that  they  breathed  warmed  the 
heart  of  the  Widow  Crosby  like  wine. 

She  did  not  know  that  the  boy  had  run  away.  No 
one  in  Hudson  knew  it  except  Squire  Brown,  and  he  was 
a  diplomat:  he  just  gave  out  the  news  quietly  that  he 
had  sent  the  boy  away  to  school. 

"  It  's  costly,"  said  the  Squire,  "  but  when  they  gets 
it  in  their  heads  that  book-learnin'  is  the  thing,  the  only 
way  to  ondeceive  'em  is  to  send  'em  to  school." 

"  And  where  did  you  send  him  ?  "  someone  asked. 
'  Well,  now,  I  should  think  that  you  had  known  me 
long   enough    to   know   that  I  do  not  blab  my  private 
affairs  on   the    street   corners — I    sent    him  to  the  best 
school  there  is,  regardless  of  expense." 

And  so  the  matter  rested.  But  when  Ruth  Crosby 
took  that  letter  over  for  Squire  Brown  to  read,  that  gen 
tleman's  heart  thumped  beneath  his  hickory  shirt  in  a 
way  that  made  him  fear  apoplexy.  He  excused  himself 
and  took  the  letter  out  behind  the  barn  and  read  it. 

Thank  God,  the  boy  was  well!  And  thank  God  again, 
he  did  not  explain  that  he  had  gone  away  without  his 
father's  consent. 

Squire  Brown  took  the  letter  in  the  house  and  handed 
it  back  carelessly  with  the  remark — "  Oh,  it  's  'bout  the 
same  he  wrote  me." 

John  had  written  full  twenty  letters  to  Margaret :  only 
two  of  them  had  been  mailed :  the  others  were  torn  up 
as  soon  as  penned.  The  first  letter  had  been  dispatched 
the  day  after  his  arrival  at  Plainfield.  It  was  rather  stiff 
and  precise  in  its  formal  expressions  of  condolence,  yet  a 
deal  more  sincere  than  most  similar  messages.  But  after 
a  week  another  letter  of  eight  pages  was  sent.  It  was  a 
genuine  news  letter  and  told  of  his  studies,  his  work,  of 


Oh  !  The  Weariness  of  Waiting  !  181 

o 

Doctor  Melden  and  Paddy  McBride  and  Sambo,  and 
then  it  swung  back  to  Old  Doctor  Melden  and  it  pic 
tured  him  as  the  saint  that  he  was.  No  reference  was 
made  to  Jim ;  for  the  present  it  would  be  wise  to  let 
well  enough  alone. 

The  first  letter  had  said,  "  I  much  regret  to  hear  of  the 
sad  afflictions  that  the  Lord  has  sent  you."  This  one 
said,  "  I  'm  awful  sorry  for  you,  Margaret — I  think  of 
you  all  day  and  dream  of  you  at  night.  I  wish  you 
would  tell  me  what  to  do,  for  I  want  to  send  you  some 
thing  or  do  something  for  you,  and  so  does  my  Uncle 
Melden,  who  is  the  best  man  that  ever  lived." 

It  was  seven  weeks  before  a  letter  came,  postmarked 
Zanesville.  Here  it  is : 

Dec.  3,  1816. 
DEAR  JOHN  BROWN: 

Both  of  your  letters  are  here  and  have  been  read  several 
times  over  both  by  Mamma  and  myself.  You  are  very  good 
and  kind  to  us.  At  this  time  you  seem  almost  our  only  friend, 
for  some  of  our  old  neighbors  shun  us  now  that  our  money  is 
gone  and  we  live  in  a  rented  apartment.  Then  there  are 
rumors  that  father  was  dishonest  in  his  dealings;  and  there 
are  those  who  hint  that  we  are  living  thus  in  poverty  as  a  blind 
and  that  we  have  large  sums  of  money  secreted.  You  can 
imagine  how  such  scandals  wound  us. 

Mamma  is  quite  ill — had  not  sat  up  for  three  days  until 
yesterday,  when  an  old  friend  of  papa's  came  to  visit  us.  His 
name  is  Captain  Brydges  —  he  is  a  widower  and  highly  re 
spected.  His  courtesy  in  calling  on  us  seemed  to  infuse 
Mamma  with  a  hope  that  our  affairs  might  yet  take  a  turn  for 
the  better. 

We  have  not  heard  from  my  brothers  since  they  went  away 
— but  we  hope  to  soon. 

Give  Doctor  Melden  our  love,  and  tell  him  that  we  respect 


1 82  Time  and  Chance 

and  revere  him  for  all  that  he  has  done  for  you.      How  glad  I 
am  that  you  are  doing  so  well  in  your  studies! 

Write  me  again  and  tell  me  of  the  books  you  read. 
Sincerely  Your  Friend, 

M.   SILVERTON. 

P.  S. — I  did  not  mail  this  letter  yesterday,  as  the  stage  does 
not  start  until  this  noon.  Do  not  worry  about  us.  I  have  one 
pupil  to  whom  I  give  music  lessons,  and  hope  for  more.  Cap 
tain  Brydges  called  again  last  night.  Mamma  used  to  keep 
company  with  him  when  she  was  a  girl.  Is  n't  it  funny  that 
he  should  come  back  to  see  her  after  all  these  years  ? 

MARGARET. 

This  letter  placed  the  young  man  on  the  highest 
pinnacle  of  happiness.  Its  declaration  of  friendship,  and 
its  unrestrained  confidence  made  him  almost  delirious 
with  joy.  He  read  the  letter  and  Doctor  Melden  read  it 
to  him;  and  then  it  was  read  to  Jim. 

'  I    'se   gone   south   to    the    cotton    fields — but    read 
ahead !  " 

The  real  fact  was  that  Jim  was  delighted  to  hear  from 
Zanesville  and  his  former  "  Missus."  There  was  a  tie  of 
blood  that  drew  him  to  her — a  tie  that  he  never  whis 
pered  aloud — but  he  realized  its  existence.  The  girl's 
happiness  was  Jim's  and  her  sorrow  his.  And  that  she 
should  still  be  hopeful  and  in  good  spirit  was  a  consola 
tion  to  him. 

"  I  know  that  Captain  Bridge,"  said  Jim,  "  he  's  rich, 
he  is.  He  lives  in  Kaintuck  and  has  a  whole  town  full 
of  niggers,  ha,  ha,  ha !  " 

What  are  you  laughing  at,  loon  ?  " 
Ha,  ha,  he,  he,  ho!  " 
Well,  tell  us  what  's  the  matter!  " 
What  a  joke  if  that  Captain  Bridge  he  marry  Widow 
Silverton !  " 


Oh  !  The  Weariness  of  Waiting  !  183 

"  Oh,  there  's  nothing  strange  in  such  an  event,"  said 
Dr.  Melden,  "  yet  of  course  the  fact  that  they  were 
lovers  in  youth — well,  such  things  have  happened.  I 
hope  he  is  a  worthy  man !  " 

"  Oh,  he  's  all  sque-gee!  He  has  a  white  goatee,  and 
dresses  to  kill — I  used  to  shine  his  shoes  and  my  mammy 
had  to  iron  his  shirts — one  every  day.  He  has  a  gold 
watch  chain  ten  feet  long.  I  say,  if  they  cotch  me  I 
s'pose  I  'd  b'long  to  Marse  Bridge,  would  n't  I  ?  " 

'  We  will  take  pains  to  see  that  they  do  not  catch 
you,"  quietly  replied  John. 

Young  Brown  was  slow  in  making  acquaintances. 
People  thought  him  exceedingly  cold  and  reserved,  and 
although  the  young  people  of  the  town  sought  to  thaw 
him  out  they  did  not  succeed. 

One  young  man  came  near  it.  This  was  Walter  War 
ren,  son  of  the  richest  man  in  Plainfield,  the  man  who 
owned  the  saw-mill.  Walter  was  two  years  older  than 
John  and  was  studying  for  the  ministry.  He  had  been 
to  Boston  and  New  York,  so  was  extensively  traveled. 
He  was  a  bright  student  and  a  young  man  of  consider 
able  culture.  He  came  twice  a  week  to  recite  Greek  to 
Doctor  Melden,  and  John  looked  on  him  as  a  model. 

And  on  the  other  hand,  Walter,  knowing  little  of  his 
friend's  history,  but  guessing  much,  regarded  John  as  a 
hero.  And  the  free  and  unrestrained  manner  of  the 
young  pioneer  was  as  pleasing  to  the  rich  man's  son  as  the 
rich  man's  son's  culture  was  to  the  other. 

John  was  a  bit  ashamed  of  the  adventurous  life  of  toil 
and  chance  that  he  had  led — not  that  there  was  anything 
especially  disgraceful  in  it,  but  it  did  not  harmonize  with 
his  pulpit  ambitions.  On  the  other  hand  Walter  regarded 
all  these  privations  and  adventures  as  valuable  experience 
that  enriched  one's  life.  And  so  the  two  young  men 


184  Time  and  Chance 

came  to  enjoy  the  society  of  each  other;  each  acted  on 
the  other  as  a  stimulus.  They  grew  quite  confidential, 
and  it  was  promised  that  after  John  had  been  duly  or 
dained  as  a  preacher — which  of  course  would  not  be  for 
several  years — Walter  would  come  out  to  Ohio  and  see 
him,  and  together  they  would  go  on  evangelizing  tours 
doing  God's  work,  summoning  men  to  repentance. 

So  John  worked  away  at  his  lessons  and  was  very 
happy,  for  over  all  his  thoughts  was  a  tinge  of  bright 
blue,  not  the  tinge  of  melancholy,  but  the  blue  of  the 
sky — or  of  a  blue  dress,  and  diffused  in  the  air  was  a  faint 
odor  of  violets. 

In  ten  days  there  came  another  letter  from  Zanesville. 
It  was  hardly  expected,  for  letter  writing  in  those  days 
of  high  postage  was  a  luxury.  Letters  nowadays  are  a 
two-cent  affair,  but  letters  then  carried  an  import  propor 
tioned  to  the  postage.  This  letter  was  evidently  written 
hurriedly  :  it  was  startling  in  its  suggestiveness.  It  ran  : 

ZANESVILLE,  Dec.  14. 
DEAR  JOHN  BROWN: 

There  is  still  left  of  the  money  you  sent  us  nearly  one  hun 
dred  dollars;  and  it  seems  that  I  should  use  this  money  for 
the  purpose  of  getting  away  from  Zanesville.  The  pupil  I  had 
in  music  has  left  me  and  there  is  nothing  to  which  1  can  turn 
to  earn  a  livelihood  for  myself  and  mother.  I  cannot  think  of 
going  to  our  aristocratic  kinsmen  in  Virginia,  for  there  we 
would  be  but  pensioners  on  others'  bounty. 

Perhaps  I  should  state  plainly  that  the  cause  of  my  agitation 
is  that  Captain  Brydges  has  asked  me  to  become  his  wife.  He 
is  very  courteous,  very  respectful,  and  very  kind.  Most  of  his 
conversation  is  with  Mamma,  and  he  told  her  last  night  if  I 
would  marry  him,  he  would  buy  back  Silverside  for  our  home. 

Mamma  does  not  dictate  what  I  shall  do,  and  although  I 
promptly  said  "  No,"  the  Captain  simply  says  that  "  I  must 


Oh  !  The  Weariness  of  Waiting  !  185 

take  a  full   fortnight  to   think   it   over."     I   will   take  three 
months  and  my  answer  will  still  be  the  same. 

In  a  New  England  town,  I  might  work  with  my  hands,  but 
here  all  work  is  done  by  blacks,  and  no  respectable  young 
woman  goes  out  to  earn  her  daily  bread  any  more  than  they 
do  in  Virginia. 

Do  you  think  Dr.  Melden  could  get  me  work  in  Plainfield — 
anything  from  governess  to  dish  washing  ? 
Yours  Truly, 

M.  SILVERTON. 

P.  S. — The  greatness  and  goodness  of  Dr.  Melden,  as  you 
have  described  him  have  appealed  to  me  so  that  I  seem  to  turn 
to  him  at  once.  Mamma  does  not  know  of  this  letter,  but  she 
will  go  with  me,  I  know,  wherever  it  seems  best. 

MARGARET. 

John  read  the  letter  with  sickening  chills  of  fear,  but 
the  mood  soon  turned  to  exultant  hope;  yet  what  to  do, 
what  to  do  ? 

He  gave  the  missive  to  Dr.  Melden.  The  old  gentle 
man  read  it  very  slowly,  and  then  again. 

My  boy,  I  have  a  plan.  I  've  been  thinking  it  over 
for  some  days,  and  this  letter  makes  the  course  plain." 
John  listened  breathlessly. 

'  Yes,  John,  I  '11  tell  you.  I  have  six  hundred  dollars 
saved  up  and  I  cannot  live  very  long  anyway,  and  even  if 
I  should  linger  along  for  a  while  you  would  care  for  me. 
Now  I  feel  that  we  should  make  James  Golden  a  free  man 
— legally  free.  We  will  send  five  hundred  dollars  to  Mar 
garet  Silverton  to  pay  for  the  boy  ;  we  can  then  issue  man 
umission  papers  and  give  him  his  freedom." 

John's  eyes  filled  with  tears  of  joy.  All  along  he  had 
felt  that  he  had  stolen  property ;  the  law  of  the  land  said 
so;  he  must  make  restitution — not  send  Jim  back,  no! 
he  would  fight  first,  but  the  slave  must  be  paid  for. 


1 86  Time  and  Chance 

Now  a  way  was  opened,  but  it  would  take  the  savings 
that  this  saintly  old  man  had  been  a  lifetime  in  accumu 
lating.  Was  not  the  sacrifice  too  great  ?  Ah,  but  then 
to  whom  was  the  money  to  be  sent  ?  and  how  was  she  to 
use  it  ?  In  coming  straight  to  Plainfield — to  him ! 

The  youth  did  not  know  it,  but  he  would  have  sacri 
ficed  not  only  this  five  hundred  dollars  but  all  the  money 
to  be  had,  and  human  life,  if  needs  be,  for  the  sake  of 
getting  Margaret  Silverton  away  from  Zanesville. 

His  eyes  shot  fire  as  he  reached  out  his  hand  toward 
the  old  man.  Youth  and  age  shook  hands  in  a  firm  grasp. 

"But  that  Captain  Brydges  —  what  a  scoundrel!" 
John  felt  in  his  pocket. 

"  No,  it  's  not  there,  boy,  no  one  needs  to  carry  such 
a  wicked  knife  in  this  civilized  country,"  smiled  Dr. 
Melden.  "  I  told  you  I  put  it  away!  " 

John  tried  to  answer  smile  with  smile,  but  he  only 
grimaced. 

"And  shall — shall  we  send  the  money  at  once,  Uncle  ?  " 
'  Yes,  to-morrow.  And  we  will  tell  Mrs.  Silverton 
and  her  daughter  to  come  straight  here.  You  know  they 
are  putting  an  organ  into  our  church — someone  must 
play,  who  so  good  as  Margaret  ?  I  can  find  her  pupils, 
too,  in  music.  They  can  rent  that  little  vacant  house 
down  by  the  river — Plainfield  will  be  better  for  such 
gentle  people." 

I  think  so,"  said  John. 

The  old  man  smiled. 

And  to-morrow  we  will  send  them  word  ?  " 
'  Yes,  my  boy." 

So  on  the  morrow  five  hundred  dollars  was  sewed  up 
stoutly  in  a  canvas  bag  and  duly  dispatched  to  Zanesville 
to  pay  for  one  slave  boy,  by  name,  i.  t\,  "James  Slivers." 

John  wrote  a  letter  and  Doctor  Melden  wrote  a  letter: 


Jim  Slivers  Disappears  187 

both  urged  immediate  removal  to  Plainfield.  Jim  went 
to  his  work  in  the  morning  and  back  at  night;  he  sang 
and  laughed  and  worked,  all  oblivious  of  the  fact  that  he 
had  been  bought  with  a  price. 

And  John  Brown  resigned  himself  to  that  most  weari 
some  of  all  wearisome  tasks — waiting,  waiting. 


CHAPTER    XX 

JIM    SLIVERS   DISAPPEARS 

THE  days  dragged  their  slow  length  along  and  each 
morning  John  checked  them  off  on  a  Poor  Richard 
Almanac. 

A  month  passed — a  month  of  steady  work  at  long  les 
sons  that  were  only  memorized  and  mumbled  over;  for 
we  learn  only  in  moments  of  animated,  pleasurable  con 
centration. 

John  had  calculated  the  time  that  it  would  take  for  a 
letter  to  reach  Zanesville  and  a  reply  to  come  back. 
Thirteen  days  was  the  quickest  trip  possible.  But  on 
the  eleventh  day  he  was  down  to  the  village  when  the 
New  Haven  stage  arrived;  he  saw  the  leathern  pouch 
tossed  off;  he  watched  it  as  it  was  carried  into  the  post- 
office  and  then  he  waited  until  the  letters  were  distributed. 

Next  day  he  did  the  same,  and  the  same  the  next. 

On  the  thirteenth  day  he  met  the  coach  a  mile  out  of 
town  and  ran  beside  it  wondering  at  the  manner  of  the 
driver  who  so  carelessly  flicked  his  whip,  indifferent  of 
the  precious  message  in  the  bag  beneath  his  feet.  But 
there  was  no  message  for  John  Brown  ;  no  letter  for  Doc 
tor  Melden.  Would  the  postmaster  please  look  again  ? 

The  postmaster  did  so.     There  was  no  letter. 


1 88  Time  and  Chance 

Neither  did  one  arrive  the  next  day,  nor  the  next. 
Twenty-six  days  had  come  and  gone.  John  had  no  ap 
petite  :  he  could  not  study :  once  when  he  went  out  to 
split  wood  he  carried  a  hoe,  and  if  Doctor  Melden  asked 
him  to  bring  the  grammar,  he  brought  a  history.  He  sat 
all  day  gloomy,  abstracted.  That  night  he  paced  the 
floor,  and  at  breakfast  Jim  tried  to  rail  him  out  of  his 
melancholy. 

The  day  wore  away :  the  sky  was  heavy  with  leaden 
clouds,  and  gusts  of  snow  now  and  again  filled  the  air. 

John  tried  to  read,  then  to  work.     He  could  do  neither. 

He  hoped  that  Jim  would  begin  his  prattling  talk  at 
supper — perhaps  it  would  brighten  his  spirits  a  little. 

But  Jim  did  not  come  to  supper.  The  victuals  grew 
cold  on  the  table,  and  John  urged  Doctor  Melden  to  eat 
alone  this  time.  He  put  on  his  cap  and  started  off  in 
the  storm  toward  the  saw-mill.  All  there  was  dark. 

He  went  to  the  house  of  the  foreman  and  found  the 
good  man  calmly  smoking  his  after-supper  pipe  in  the 
chimney  corner,  while  four  children  in  their  night  clothes 
were  frolicking  on  the  floor  before  being  put  to  bed. 

No,  the  foreman  had  not  seen  Jim  since  he  quit  work. 

Inquiry  was  made  at  the  house  of  a  workman  close  at 
hand.  This  man  had  seen  two  strangers  in  a  sleigh  wait 
ing  on  the  hillside — these  men  called  to  Jim  and  he  had 
seen  the  boy  go  over  to  where  they  were  —  that  is  all  he 
noticed. 

John  then  began  to  ask  at  house  after  house.  No, 
none  had  seen  the  freckled  boy  that  lived  with  Old  Doc 
tor  Melden. 

At  last  a  woman  was  found  who  had  seen  a  boy — it 
might  have  been  Dr.  Melden's  boy— seated  in  a  pung  be 
tween  two  men.  She  had  passed  them  on  the  bridge  at 
dusk,  and  she  had  heard  one  of  the  men  say,  "  We  will 


A  Fruitless  Chase  189 

kill  you  if  you  do  not  keep  still."  She  thought  they 
were  trying  to  tie  the  boy's  hands,  but  she  had  been  too 
frightened  to  look  closely.  When  they  saw  her  one  of 
the  men  shouted,  "  Is  this  the  New  Haven  stage  road?" 
and  when  she  said,  "  Yes,"  they  whipped  the  horse  into 
a  run  and  disappeared  in  an  instant,  to  her  great  relief. 

It  was  now  nine  o'clock. 

John  ran  home  and  burst  into  the  little  study  where 
Doctor  Melden  sat  waiting  for  him  before  the  fire. 

"  The  slave  hunters — the  slave  hunters — they  have 
stolen  him  away!  My  knife,  where  is  it,  do  you  hear  ? 
my  knife,  my  knife!  " 

'  No,  my  boy,  you  do  not  need  a  knife — pray  eat  some 
supper  and  we  will  talk  of  what  is  best  to  do." 

'  Talk  of  what  is  best  to  do  ?  why  should  we  ?— I  know 
what  is  best  to  do.  I  will  overtake  these  men — we  have 
paid  for  the  boy — a  receipt  for  the  money  will  be  here 
to-morrow !  I  shall  follow  them  to  the  brink  of  hell ! 
And  so  you  will  not  give  me  my  knife— very  well,  I  '11 
go  without  it !  " 

"  Come  back,  come  back  here,  John — John  Brown!  " 

The  old  man  was  out  in  the  yard  and  the  wild  wind 
was  tossing  his  white  hair  in  mocking  derision. 
'  John— John  Brown!  " 

But  there  was  for  answer  only  the  smothered  shriek  of 
the  gale  through  the  pines,  and  the  soft,  purring,  men 
acing  hiss  of  the  racing  snow. 


CHAPTER    XXI 
A   FRUITLESS   CHASE 

T  was  a  forlorn  hope  to  overtake  that  sleigh:  a  wild, 

foolish,  undefined  hope. 
Age  takes  time  to  consider,  but  youth  acts.    John  had 


190  Time  and  Chance 

followed  the  snow  path  for  several  miles,  and  although 
the  track  was  partially  obscured  by  the  drift,  he  could 
still  make  it  out.  But  the  soft  snow  slipped  beneath  his 
feet  and  his  progress  became  slower  and  slower.  From 
six  miles  an  hour  his  gait  slackened  to  barely  three. 

The  night  was  dark,  and  the  air  was  full  of  sleet  and 
flying  flakes.  Angry  scudding  clouds  chased  each  other 
athwart  the  sky,  but  now  and  again  for  an  instant  there 
could  be  seen  rifts  where  the  moon  shone  through.  Then 
the  gloom  would  seem  to  lift,  only  to  give  way  again  to 
the  murkiness  of  the  winter  night. 

The  boy's  legs  were  getting  heavy  and  as  his  footsteps 
became  slow,  his  senses  came  back.  After  all,  what  could 
he  do,  even  if  he  should  overtake  the  men  in  the  sleigh  ? 
He  could  not  successfully  fight  them  and  rescue  their 
prisoner! 

Still,  Jim  Slivers  was  his  property.  Dr.  Melden's 
money  had  bought  him  :  these  men  had  no  moral  or  legal 
right  to  the  boy.  Grant  that  he  was  a  negro — admit  that 
he  was  a  slave:  he  was  the  property  of  John  Brown. 

Thrice  armed  with  the  consciousness  of  right,  he 
sprang  forward,  determined  that  if  he  could  catch  these 
slave  stealers  he  would  cling  to  them  and  detain  them 
until  he  could  prove  his  position. 

The  black  clouds  parted  and  the  landscape  seemed  to 
lighten.  Over  to  the  right  was  a  brown  spot  that 
marked  a  farmhouse ;  no  light  was  seen — all  were  sleep 
ing  soundly.  On  closer  approach  the  dull  reflection  of 
smoldering  coals  in  the  fire-place  could  be  made  out 
against  the  little  windows.  Joined  to  the  house  by  a  long 
open  woodshed  was  the  barn.  John  approached  and 
looked  in  at  the  window.  All  was  quiet.  He  moved 
along  back  to  the  barn  and  tried  the  door:  it  was  locked. 
To  one  side  was  a  sliding  window  used  for  throwing  out 


A  Fruitless  Chase  191 

compost.  At  a  gentle  push  this  gave  way,  and  a  horse 
within  answered  with  a  neigh. 

John  crawled  in  through  the  window  and  felt  his  way 
back  to  the  door,  which  was  held  by  a  hook.  This  he 
unfastened  and  the  wooden  hinges  creaked  ominously  as 
a  flood  of  soft  light  came  in,  followed  by  a  gust  of  snow. 

The  boy  could  see  the  animals  in  the  stalls,  and  he  felt 
along  the  backs  of  each :  two  cows,  then  a  colt  that 
snorted  and  squirmed  under  his  touch,  next  came  a  horse 
that  made  no  motion  and  showed  by  his  manner  that  he 
had  arrived  at  years  of  discretion. 

Behind  the  horse  was  a  tangle  of  harness  on  a  wooden 
peg.  John  felt  for  a  bridle,  picked  it  out,  took  a  blanket 
that  hung  near  and  led  the  horse  out  into  the  night, 
closed  the  barn  door  and  vaulted  onto  the  animal's  back. 

The  horse's  hoofs  made  not  the  slightest  sound  in  the 
soft  snow  as  he  moved  on  a  trot  out  into  the  roadway  and 
headed  for  the  south. 

Was  this  young  man  so  devoid  of  all  moral  instinct  as 
to  steal  a  horse  ?  Bless  you,  do  not  be  captious — he  did 
not  commit  larceny.  He  borrowed  the  horse  only  for  an 
hour  or  so— it  would  be  safely  back  in  its  stall  in  the 
morning  at  farthest.  A  horse  is  power — hands  and  feet 
— an  annihilator  of  space.  A  horse  means  safety  to  the 
oppressed — liberty  to  the  threatened.  In  times  of  emerg 
ency  a  horse  belongs  to  him  who  can  mount  it  first. 
Attacked  by  Indians,  do  you  ask  who  holds  a  bill  of  sale 
of  this  beast,  ere  you  place  foot  in  stirrup  ? 

The  old  farm  horse  snorted  at  the  spurring  heels  and 
swung  into  a  lunging  gallop  that  meant  ten  miles  an  hour. 

Only  two  faint  velvety  furrows  marked  the  road  now: 
the  elements  were  in  conspiracy  with  the  enemy. 

In  an  hour  a  teamster  was  met,  his  jingling  bells  echo 
ing  on  the  frosty  air. 


1 92  Time  and  Chance 

'  Did  you  pass  a  pung  ?  "  called  John. 
'  Three  men  in  it  ? " 

"  Yes." 

"  Driving  as  if  the  devil  was  after  'em  ? " 

"  Yes." 
'  Well,  I  should  say  I  did — nothing  wrong,  I  hope!  " 

"  No — how  far  back  ?  " 

"  Oh,  ten  miles — who  were  they  and  who  are  you  in 
such  a  rush  ?  " 

But  John  made  no  answer;  he  sent  his  horse  forward 
on  a  run.  It  was  getting  towards  morning.  The  cocks 
were  crowing,  and  now  and  again  twinkling  lights  could 
be  seen  in  farmhouses. 

At  one  of  these  a  man  was  going  out  to  the  barn  with 
a  lantern  in  one  hand  and  a  basket  in  the  other. 

"  Did  you  see  three  men  go  by  in  a  sleigh  ? " 

"  How  could  I,  when  I  just  got  out  of  bed!  " 
'  Well,  how  far  is  it  to  New  Haven  ?  " 
'  Twenty-five  thousand  miles  the  way  you  are  going 
— if  you  right  about  face  and  take  the  left  hand  turn  at 
the  village  eight  miles  back,  it  's  twelve  miles," 

John  had  missed  the  main  track.  Eight  miles  out  of 
the  way — sixteen  miles  of  travel  for  naught!  He  was 
stiff,  sore  and  benumbed  with  cold.  But  back  he  turned 
and  the  honest  old  horse  responded  to  his  urging. 

Just  at  daylight  New  Haven  was  reached.  The  wind 
had  died  down,  and  just  before  the  stars  disappeared  they 
shone  out  in  a  clear  sky  a  brief  space,  just  as  sanity 
comes  to  a  dying  man.  Curling  blue  smoke  arose  from 
many  houses.  In  a  doorway  between  two  warehouses 
stood  a  watchman  in  a  big  muffled  overcoat.  In  his 
hand  he  held  a  stout  knotted  cane. 

Are  you  a  policeman  ?  "  called  John. 

"  That  's  what  they  call  me!  " 


Slave-Stealing  and  Horse-Stealing-          193 

'  Did  you  see  three  men  in  a  sleigh  come  into  town  ?  " 
".I  might  ha'  seen  a  dozen  sleighs  come  in  town — who 
do  you  want  ?  " 

'  Two  men  who  were  stealing  a  slave." 
"  Oh,  there   were  two   or'f'cers  with   a  runaway  just 
drove  down  to  the  dock  to  take  the  New  York  boat !  " 
'  Which  way — quick,  tell  me  which  way!  " 
'  Don't  get  in  a  sweat,  youngster — they  did  n't  steal 
the    boy,  they  had    a  warrant    for   him    signed    by    the 
Gov'ner.      But  that  's  the  way  to  Long  Wharf!  " 

John  turned  and  looked  in  the  direction  the  man 
pointed.  The  loud  exhaust  of  a  side-wheel  steamer  was 
heard,  and  then  the  boat  herself  showed  between  the 
buildings. 

The  steamer  was  a  full  half-mile  away,  plowing  through 
the  broken  ice  and  headed  down  the  Sound. 

You  see,"  said  the  watchman,  "  that  'ere  boat  should 
'a'  left  las'  night,  but  there  was  too  much  gale,  so  she 
layed  up  till  daylight.  The  gentlemen  you  speak  of  are 
aboard  of  'er." 

CHAPTER    XXII 

SLAVE-STEALING   AND    HORSE-STEALING 

THE  question  of  slavery  was  a  vexed  one  at  this  time 
in  New  England  States.  The  real  fact  was,  slaves 
were  a  poor  investment,  for  only  where  they  could  be 
worked  in  gangs  could  they  be  made  to  pay. 

Cotton  and  an  enervating  climate  demanded  slaves,  so 
cotton's  conscience  was  not  affected  by  the  ethics  of  the 
case.  For  let  us  admit  that  conscience  and  self-interest 
are  never  very  widely  separated. 

For  the  most  part,  though,  the  New  England  con 
science  on  the  slave  question  was  apathetic.  Yet  only  a 


194  Time  and  Chance 

year  before  there  came  near  being  a  division  in  the  Pres 
byterian  Church  at  Plain  field  on  the  question.  Not  on 
the  general  issue — of  course  not — no  one  was  interested 
enough  for  that — but  rather  on  personal  grounds. 

A  Virginian  had  moved  to  Plainfield  and  brought 
several  slaves  with  him.  By  the  law  of  the  State  they 
were  then  free,  for  there  was  an  act  forbidding  the  im 
portation  of  slaves  into  Connecticut.  However,  our 
Virginian  did  not  like  the  climate  and  proposed  moving 
back  to  Dixie.  At  the  eleventh  hour  his  slaves  claimed 
their  freedom  and  refused  to  go.  He  threatened.  They 
appealed  to  the  townspeople  for  protection.  He  being  a 
member  of  the  church,  in  good  standing,  appealed  to  the 
brethren,  and  argued  eloquently  on  the  rights  of  prop 
erty.  He  had  bought  the  slaves;  he  had  paid  for  them; 
he  had  always  treated  them  well;  he  proposed  to  compel 
them  to  go  with  him,  just  as  he  could  compel  his  children 
to  accompany  him. 

The  slaves  were  intelligent  mulattoes,  and  Christians, 
the  same  as  their  master.  They  agreed  to  leave  it  to  a 
vote  of  the  church,  for  many  disputes  in  those  days  were 
decided  by  the  church  instead  of  by  the  courts. 

Doctor  Melden  made  a  strong  plea  for  the  slaves.  He 
viewed  them  simply  as  men,  and  he  applied  the  Golden 
Rule  to  the  case.  As  for  himself,  he  did  not  care  to  be 
come  the  chattel  of  any  man,  no  matter  how  Christian ; 
therefore  he  wished  to  give  freedom  to  others. 

A  few  of  Dr.  Melden's  personal  friends  stood  by  him, 
but  the  majority  went  with  the  pastor  of  the  church ;  and 
on  putting  the  matter  to  a  vote,  it  was  decided  that  the 
slaves  should  accompany  their  master;  and  they  did. 

And  now  it  was  the  talk  of  the  whole  town  that  Doctor 
Melden  had  not  only  argued  for  abolition,  but  was  actu 
ally  engaged  in  the  business  of  running  off  slaves:  for  be 


Slave-Stealing  and  Horse-Stealing          195 

thou  as  chaste  as  ice,  as  pure  as  snow,  thou  shalt  not 
escape  calumny.  But  in  fact  there  was  no  defense: 
James  Golden,  alias  Jim  Slivers,  was  a  runaway  slave; 
officers  had  come  with  full  authority  to  take  him  back. 
This  slave  had  been  harbored  by  Doctor  Melden.  More 
over,  Doctor  Melden  had  protected  a  young  renegade 
who  called  himself  John  Brown. 

This  young  Brown  had  stolen  a  horse  and  disappeared. 
Leastwise  the  horse  was  gone,  and  Brown  was  gone; 
and  a  teamster  had  seen  a  boy  that  looked  like  Brown 
with  a  horse  that  looked  like  the  one  missing. 

Old  Doctor  Melden  had  been  harboring  both  Brown 
and  the  runaway  negro.  How  sad  that  a  man  of  his 
age,  so  venerable,  so  universally  respected,  should  sink 
to  such  depths! 

Old  Doctor  Melden  made  no  excuse,  for  there  was  no 
excuse  to  make.  Possibly  he  was  troubled  by  these 
rumors;  for  a  committee  had  come  to  him  from  the 
church  to  reason  and  pray  with  him.  They  assured  him 
that  they  bore  him  no  malice  and  would  forgive  him  even 
if  he  sinned  to  seventy  times  seven :  that  is,  provided  he 
was  repentant. 

But  he  was  not  repentant :  he  even  asked  them  to 
cease  praying  for  him :  said  that  he  wished  to  leave  the 
matter  to  God  who  judgeth  in  secret. 

The  committee  went  away  sorrowful,  but  being  charit 
able  people,  they  reported  that  Old  Doctor  Melden  was 
fast  sinking  into  the  hopeless  irritability  and  senility  of 
second  childhood.  Someone  sent  a  copy  of  the  report 
to  the  Doctor  by  mail. 

Of  course  we  cannot  say  he  was  done  to  death  by  slan 
derous  tongues;  this  would  be  too  harsh;  and  although 
no  disease  preyed  upon  his  vitals,  death  claimed  him. 

One  morning,  just  a  fortnight  after  the  disappearance 


196  Time  and  Chance 

of  John  Brown,  Mrs.  McBride  entered  the  little  study  at 
daylight  as  was  her  custom.  Sitting  at  the  table,  with 
his  white-crowned  head  bowed,  and  resting  on  the  open 
Bible,  was  the  stiffened  form  of  the  old  man. 

Death  had  come  to  him  while  in  the  act  of  devotion— 
his  spirit  had  flown  on  the  wings  of  prayer. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

DEFEAT  AND  DOUBT  BUT  NOT  DISCOURAGEMENT 

TWO  thoughts  kept  racking  the  brain  of  John  Brown 
during  all  that  chilling  night  ride;  and  sunrise  shed 
no  new  light  upon  them. 

He  felt  that  he  must  rescue  Jim;  to  abandon  him  now 
to  fate  would  be  the  basest  kind  of  poltroonery.  Perhaps 
he  did  not  think  out  this  sentiment  to  its  limit,  for  the 
idea  of  rescue  was  supreme  :  the  thought  of  giving  up  the 
chase  never  entered  his  mind. 

The  second  thought,  which  was  the  more  vital,  as  it 
enveloped  the  other  completely,  was  the  rescue  of  Mar 
garet  Silverton.  The  five  hundred  dollars  sent  to  pur 
chase  freedom  for  Jim  was  meant  to  give  liberty  to 
Margaret.  And  yet  this  sacrifice  on  the  part  of  Doctor 
Melden,  so  far  as  John  knew,  had  benefited  neither. 

Could  it  be  possible  that  this  angelic  young  woman 
had  received  the  money  and  yet  made  no  acknowledg 
ment  of  it  ?  Stories  that  he  had  heard  concerning  the 
duplicity  of  woman-kind  came  stealing  into  the  boy's 
mind ;  he  shuddered  and  thrust  them  back  as  though 
they  were  pollution. 

Yet,  after  all,  how  did  these  slave  hunters  get  track  of 
the  runaway — had  Margaret  told  them  ?  It  could  not 


Defeat  and  Doubt  but  not  Discouragement     197 

be,  and  the  slave  having  been  paid  for,  why  follow  him  ? 
Surely,  if  Margaret  had  incautiously  revealed  his  where 
abouts,  she  also  would  have  told  the  fact  of  the  purchase: 
and  this  being  true,  there  would  be  no  excuse  for  the 
capture.  Then  how  did  the  slave  hunters  get  on  the 
track  of  the  boy  ? 

He  had  gone  over  the  matter  a  hundred  times,  as  his 
eyes  followed  the  disappearing  steamboat. 
'  Have  you  come  far  ?  " 

The  watchman's  voice  awoke  the  lad :  he  started. 
'  Yes — that  is,  not  very." 
'  Your  horse  is  pretty  well  blowed." 
'  Yes,  he  's  a  little  tired — where  can  I  put  him  up  ?  " 
'  Just  around  the  corner  is  the  tavern  barn." 
The  horse  was  brown  when  in  his  natural  color  :  now  he 
was  white,   for  sweat  and  steaming  breath   had  frozen 
over  him  like  a  blanket. 

John  headed  the  horse  around  the  corner,  dismounted, 
and  shoved  back  the  big  sliding  door  of  the  barn.  There 
on  the  floor  stood  a  horse  white  as  the  one  he  led,  coated 
with  frozen  foam  like  his  own.  A  hostler  was  industri 
ously  rubbing  the  animal  with  a  woolen  cloth. 

"Shut  that  door,  jackanapes,  this  horse  will  catch  his 
death  o'  cold  !  " 

He  's  got  it  now,"  answered  John. 
'  They  gave  him  a  devil  of  a  drive,  for  sure!  " 
'  Who  were  they  ?  " 

"  Constables,  I  guess — they  hired  the  rig  o'  us,  an'  gave 
me  a  dollar  extra  to  keep  this  horse  from  goin'  to  horse- 
heaven  !  " 

'  Where  are  the  men  now  ?  " 

"  On  the  steamboat — hold  on,  aint  you  goin'  to  put 
yer  horse  in  ?  " 

No,  not  this  time,  thank  you." 


198  Time  and  Chance 

John  backed  the  horse  out,  pushed  the  big  door  to, 
mounted  and  rode  on  a  jog  trot  out  the  main  street  that 
led  straight  toward  the  west. 

He  had  entered  the  barn  with  the  intention  of  having 
the  horse  fed  and  properly  cared  for.  He  could  smell 
the  aroma  of  coffee,  ham  and  eggs  and  fried  potatoes 
coming  from  the  tavern  kitchen ;  he  was  faint  from  hun 
ger,  for  he  had  missed  his  supper  the  night  before :  why 
did  he  not  remain  for  breakfast  ?  Simply  because  the 
truth  came  to  him  that  he  had  not  a  cent  of  money  in  his 
pocket. 

His  cheeks  burned  with  fever,  yet  his  hands  and  feet 
seemed  frozen  stiff  with  cold.  He  tried  to  pucker  his 
lips  to  whistle,  but  not  a  sound  could  he  make. 

The  horse  was  very  tired  and  the  clogging  snow  made 
him  stumble.  John  reeled  on  his  back  and  clung  to  his 
mane  for  support. 

Three  miles  out  of  town  he  stopped  at  a  farmhouse. 
His  rap  at  the  kitchen  door  was  answered  by  a  motherly 
old  woman. 

"  Missus,  I  'm  hungry,  and  I  have  no  money  to  pay 
you.  Will  you  give  me  some  breakfast  ?  " 

The  woman  smiled,  asked  the  boy  in,  and  explained 
that  the  breakfast  things  had  all  been  put  away,  but  of 
course  she  would  give  him  something  to  eat.  Then 
noticing  his  horse  standing  at  the  door,  she  directed  him 
to  put  the  animal  in  the  barn.  John  led  the  horse  to  the 
barn,  and  after  giving  it  water,  oats  and  hay,  returned 
to  the  house. 

A  simple  lunch  was  set  on  the  table  for  him.  He  drew 
up  a  chair,  sat  down  and  started  to  eat.  But  his  fast  had 
been  too  long  and  Nature's  craving  for  her  needs  had 
vanished.  He  tried  to  eat,  but  the  food  choked  him — 
he  cast  a  despairing  look  on  the  kind  woman  who  sat 


Defeat  and  Doubt  but  not  Discouragement     199 

near — the  room  seemed  to  ^wim,  and  had  not  the  moth 
erly  arms  caught  him,  he  would  have  fallen. 

The  next  he  knew  he  was  lying  on  a  lounge  and  under 
his  head  was  a  pillow  that  gave  out  a  pungent  odor  of 
pine  needles. 

He  had  a  guilty  feeling  that  he  had  been  calling  for 
someone;  and  he  gradually  made  out  the  fact  that  there 
were  two  persons  in  the  room  with  him  :  Margaret  Silver- 
ton  and  his  Uncle  Melden.  Soon  his  blurred  vision  grew 
stronger  and  he  discovered  that  the  man  and  woman 
were  simply  two  plain  old  people  —  strangers.  The 
woman's  face  looked  familiar  to  him — where  had  he  seen 
her  ?  She  had  placed  a  wet  towel  on  his  forehead  and 
was  now  rubbing  his  hands;  the  man  had  taken  off  the 
boy's  shoes  and  was  wrapping  his  feet  in  a  woolen 
shawl  that  had  evidently  been  warmed  by  the  stove. 
'  You  feel  better  now — try  to  drink  some  of  this  tea!  " 

The  voice  brought  back  his  scattered  senses  and  he 
now  remembered  where  he  was.      How  long  had  he  been 
here  ?  a  week  maybe — certainly  since  yesterday. 
'  Have  I  been  sick  long — when  did  I  come  here  ?  " 

"  Oh,  about  ten  minutes  ago.  You  fainted  and  I 
called  my  husband  from  the  woodshed  and  we  got  you 
on  this  lounge.  Now  drink  this  tea,  please!  " 

In  the  corner  a  tall  wooden  clock  solemnly  ticked  off 
the  seconds.  The  hands  marked  twenty  minutes  of 
nine.  In  ten  minutes'  time  his  soul  had  traversed  the 
earth,  fought  battles,  rescued  Jim  Slivers,  brought  Mar 
garet  Silverton  to  Plainfield — then  he  had  grown  weary 
and  lain  down  on  the  lounge  in  Doctor  Melden's  little 
study  and  Margaret  had  come  and  placed  a  damp  cloth 
over  his  forehead  and  was  now  caressing  his  hands. 

But  all  at  once  his  dreams  were  dashed  to  fragments — 
he  was  among  strangers — he  had  no  money — he  was  ill 


2oo  Time  and  Chance 

and  his  doubts  and  difficulties  were  all  before  him.  Real 
izing  these  things,  his  native  imperturbability  came  over 
him.  He  sat  up,  drank  the  tea,  and  then  ate  a  piece  of 
bread. 

"I  '11  sleep  for  a  little  while,  if  you  don't  mind,"  he 
said. 

'  That  's  right,  lie  down  and  rest — you  must  stay  here 
until  you  feel  all  right,"  said  the  old  man. 

The  woman  adjusted  the  pillow  under  his  head,  the 
man  covered  him  with  a  blanket  and  they  withdrew  to 
the  kitchen. 

John  cast  his  eyes  around  the  little  room,  and  he  saw 
that  it  was  plainly  furnished.  He  tried  to  weave  a  his 
tory  for  this  funny  old  couple ;  they  had  had  a  big  family 
of  children  who  were  all  grown  up,  got  married  and 
moved  away;  he  noticed  that  the  old  man  was  slightly 
hump-backed,  and  that  the  woman  wore  brass-rimmed 
spectacles  and  had  a  mole  on  her  cheek. 

The  tea-kettle  hummed  cheerily  in  the  next  room,  and 
above  the  tones  of  the  singing  kettle,  he  caught  the 
voices  of  the  man  and  his  wife.  They  were  doing  for 
him  what  he  had  done  for  them,  i.  e.,  weaving  a  history. 

'  He  has  come  a  long  way — his  horse  is  tired  out!  " 

"  I  'm  afraid  he  run  away." 

'  Perhaps  he  was  abused  !  " 

"  It  would  be  an  awful  wicked  person  who  would 
wrong  him.  He  's  a  fine,  honest  young  fellow — he  told 
me  at  once  that  he  had  no  money." 

"  But  surely  there  is  some  secret  back  of  it — he  has 
ridden  all  night  and  I  fear  his  feet  are  frozen." 

'  1  hope  he  is  not  a  criminal!  " 

'  Never  mind,  we  will  not  question  him!  " 

"  Not  a  word — it  is  none  of  our  business — we  will  just 
take  care  of  him,  that  's  all." 


Hot  Hopes  Fade  off  into  Mist  201 

The  voices  sank  to  a  monotonous,  gentle  ripple  that 
chimed  with  the  sound  of  the  singing  kettle,  and  John 
sailed  slowly  away  to  the  land  of  dreams. 


CHAPTER    XXIV 

HOT   HOPES   FADE    OFF   INTO    MIST 

WHEN  John  awoke  it  was  noon  and  the  table  was 
set  in  the  little  kitchen  for  three. 

He  hobbled  out  and  made  a  show  of  eating.  At  once, 
after  dinner,  the  boy  proposed  to  be  off  on  his  journey. 
But  he  found  that  although  when  sitting  still,  he  was 
comfortable,  yet  when  he  moved,  there  was  pain  in 
every  joint  of  his  body.  Besides  that,  one  foot  had  been 
nipped  by  frost  and  it  was  so  swollen  he  could  hardly 
get  on  his  shoe.  So  he  allowed  the  counsel  of  his 
friends  to  prevail  and  decided  to  wait  until  morning. 

In  his  resolution  concerning  what  was  best  to  do,  there 
was  no  waver,  neither  shadow  of  turning.  Go  back  to 
Plainfield  ?  He  had  not  considered  it.  Sometime,  of 
course,  he  would  return,  but  now  duty  lay  elsewhere. 
And  let  us  not  forget  that  down  deep  under  all  of  our 
unconscious  sophistry,  duty  lies  in  the  direction  of  de 
sire  :  we  succumb  to  the  strongest  attraction. 

That  the  slave  hunters  would  take  their  prisoner 
straight  back  to  Zanesville  he  never  doubted.  From 
New  York  they  would  go  by  stage  to  Philadelphia, 
thence  to  Pittsburg,  then  on  to  Zanesville.  They  would 
go  at  the  rate  of  at  least  sixty  miles  a  day,  and  if  they 
did  not  mind  traveling  by  night,  with  consequent  loss  of 
sleep,  they  might  even  go  faster.  The  stages  changed 
horses  every  few  miles,  while  his  one  poor  old  horse  must 
make  the  journey  through. 


2O2  Time  and  Chance 

He  had  started  and  he  would  make  the  trip;  he  would 
rescue  Jim  Slivers,  and  he  would  help  Margaret  and  her 
mother  to  move  straight  to  Plainfield.  Margaret  desired 
to  do  this,  Doctor  Melden  approved  the  plan — it  must  be 
carried  out.  Otherwise,  slavery  would  be  the  fate  of  Jim 
and  a  condition  worse  than  death  the  lot  of  Margaret. 
John  rose  to  the  level  of  events. 

But  he  was  stealing  a  horse ! — not  stealing,  appropriat 
ing.  To  take  what  the  exigencies  of  the  case  demand  is 
not  theft.  If  a  man  is  starving,  the  law  against  larceny 
is  in  abeyance.  Jesus  plucked  the  ears  of  corn  on  the 
Sabbath  day,  thus  breaking  two  laws,  a  quibbler  might 
say.  But  man  is  greater  than  law  and  ever  will  be,  for 
the  satisfaction  of  man's  wants  is  God's  will.  Thus  did 
the  boy  silence  conscience. 

Faulty  reasoning,  does  someone  say  ?  No;  the  pros 
perity  of  all  Christian  nations  is  founded  on  the  law  of 
conquest,  that  is,  the  taking  from  others  the  things  that 
are  needed,  and  in  times  of  war  certain  commandments 
are  always  waived. 

The  decalogue  applies  only  to  piping  times  of  peace, 
for  that  bit  of  portable  wisdom,  "  All  's  fair  in  love  and 
war,"  is  firmly  rooted  in  the  hearts  of  humanity. 

Soon  after  breakfast  the  little  hump-backed  man  shook 
John's  hand,  and  the  good  old  lady  kissed  him  on  the 
cheek,  and  he  rode  away.  John  knew  human  nature  well 
enough  to  be  convinced  that  he  could  travel  without 
money.  Foolish  people  do  not  know  that  a  man  can  do 
the  same  even  now,  if  he  is  only  frank  and  honest.  The 
simple  statement  that  one  is  hungry  and  penniless  will 
ever  touch  the  heart  of  a  live  man  and  more  especially 
woman.  We  turn  the  beggar  away  only  because  we 
believe  him  unworthy.  But  if  he  carried  in  his  counten 
ance  the  mark  of  innocence  and  the  purity  of  youth, 


Hot  Hopes  Fade  off  into  Mist  203 

we  would  not  only   give  him  our  coat    but  our  cloak 
also. 

John  timed  his  requests  for  food  at  meal-time,  always 
making  the  frank  explanation  that  he  had  no  money. 

The  answer  usually  was,  "  That  's  all  right,  help  your 
self!"  And  so  he  was  fed  and  lodged  and  speeded  on 
his  way. 

With  ferry  and  toll-gate  keepers  it  was  not  quite  so 
easy ;  but  the  statement  made,  without  stopping,  that  he 

would  pay  on  the  way  back"  was  usually  sufficient. 
Others,  being  satisfied  that  he  had  no  money,  allowed  him 
to  pass,  and  in  several  cases  onlookers  produced  the 
change  for  him.  And  the  tall,  straight,  manly,  serious 
youth  won  the  shy  sympathy  of  the  young  women,  the 
half  pity  of  the  older  ones,  and  the  confidence  of  the  men. 

In  spite  of  drifts  and  cold  storms,  thirty  miles  or  more 
were  turned  off  each  day.  Often  for  long  distances  he 
would  get  chances  to  ride  in  wagons  or  sleighs.  Then 
he  would  lead  the  horse  behind  and  this  would  rest  them 
both.  New  York  was  reached  in  three  days;  Phila 
delphia  in  three  days  more;  then  came  a  monotonous 
stretch  of  fourteen  days  to  Pittsburg,  and  at  sun-down 
on  the  twenty-third  day  after  leaving  New  Haven  he 
stopped  for  supper  at  a  farmhouse,  in  front  of  which  was 
a  pointing  arrow  on  a  sign  board,  and  the  token:  8 M. 
to  Zanesville. 

It  was  his  intention  to  ride  straight  on  after  supper, 
but  the  drizzling  rain  that  had  fallen  all  day  now  turned 
to  snow.  The  night  was  dark  and  the  old  horse  without 
shoes  could  make  but  slow  headway  over  the  stony  road. 
The  young  man's  intention  was  to  find  Margaret  Silver- 
ton  the  first  thing ;  but,  as  she  did  not  know  of  his  coming, 
it  seemed  better  that  they  should  meet  in  the  daytime. 
And  in  truth,  now  that  the  whole  grievous  journey 


204  Time  and  Chance 

through  cold,  and  rain,  and  dark,  over  mountains,  across 
wild  streams  and  past  wilder  woods,  was  over,  he  hesi 
tated  at  meeting  this  beautiful  girl.  What  should  he  say? 
What  would  she  say  ? 

He  ate  little  supper  and  the  farmer's  wife  asked  him  if 
he  was  ill.  He  sat  by  the  big  fire-place  and  his  teeth 
chattered  as  if  he  had  a  chill.  The  woman  insisted  on 
giving  him  a  dose  of  pepper  tea,  and  on  his  soaking  his 
feet  in  mustard  water;  and  when  he  started  up  and  de 
clared  his  intention  of  going  on  to  Zanesville  at  once,  the 
good  man  and  his  wife  looked  at  each  other  knowingly, 
and  thought  their  visitor  daft. 

His  sleep  that  night  was  a  wild,  tossing  delirium.  He 
ate  little  breakfast  and,  when  he  started  away,  he  even 
forgot  to  thank  his  kind  entertainers. 

In  a  half  hour  he  saw  the  rising  smoke  from  the  city  of 
Zanesville.  Soon  the  church  spires  carne  in  sight;  in  a 
half  hour  more  he  looked  down  the  straight  rows  of 
streets  with  their  prim  rows  of  houses.  He  stopped  his 
horse  at  the  top  of  the  hill  to  get  his  bearings.  It  was  n't 
the  great  city  that  he  had  once  known ;  it  seemed  to 
have  contracted  itself  into  a  mere  village. 

His  eye  ran  around  the  rim  of  hills,  and  off  to  the 
north  he  saw  the  winding  road  that  led  to  Hudson — the 
same  beaten  track  that  his  feet  first  traversed  when  he 
had  come  here  with  his  father's  cattle.  He  remembered 
well  how,  on  his  second  visit,  he  had  stood  on  yonder 
hill  and  picked  out  Silverside.  Why,  yes,  it  must  be 
that  Silverside  was  near  where  he  then  stood.  He  cast 
his  eye  about  on  the  houses  near  at  hand. 

Just  below,  not  a  hundred  yards  from  him,  was  a  large, 
newly-painted  house.  He  rubbed  his  eyes.  Surely, 
yes,  it  must  be  Silverside.  The  cattle  pens  weVe  all  re 
moved,  the  big  barn  had  been  weather-boarded,  and  the 


Hot  Hopes  Fade  off  into  Mist  205 

"  quarters  "  in  the  rear  had  been  torn  down  and  carted 
away.  What  a  change  in  less  than  a  year !  and  yet  it 
was  all  for  the  better;  but  still  John  had  hoped  for  a 
sight  of  the  stately  residence,  just  as  it  was  when  he  first 
knew  it.  He  had  an  affection  for  the  old  place,  that  be 
fore  he  had  never  guessed.  But  now  it  was  all  so 
spick-span  new;  so  clean  and  fresh  and  modern — and  un 
comfortable,  like  a  hard-boiled  shirt. 

An  idea  came  to  the  youth ;  he  would  enquire  here 
about  Mrs.  Silverton  and  her  daughter  —  surely,  these 
people  would  be  able  to  direct  him  to  their  present 
abode !  Then  the  place  had  a  fascination  for  him,  it 
lured  him  on  and  he  wanted  once  more  to  stand  on  that 
veranda  and  lean  against  that  same  pillar  that  he  had 
slid  down  at  midnight,  and  against  which  a  fair-haired 
girl  in  blue  had  leaned  and  waved  him  a  good-bye. 

He  rode  in  at  the  gate,  straight  up  to  the  front  steps,  he 
dismounted  and  tied  his  horse  to  a  ring  in  the  horse  block. 

He  walked  up  on  the  veranda  and  touched  the  favorite 
pillar,  "  lest  offense  be  given  "  ;  then  he  rang  the  bell.  It 
seemed  a  good  while  before  anyone  answered,  and  he 
was  on  the  point  of  ringing  again  when  a  colored  girl 
came  to  the  door. 

John  started  to  ask  her  where  Mrs.  Silverton  now 
lived,  but  the  idea  came  to  him  that  he  would  rather  ask 
his  questions  of  a  more  intelligent  person:  besides  that, 
he  had  a  little  curiosity  to  see  the  new  owner  of  Silver- 
side. 

"  Good-morning — I  wished  to  ask — to  see  the  gentle 
man  who  lives  here." 

"  I  '11  tell  him,  sah,  but  then  it  am  only  eight  o'clock. 
I  'm  afraid  he  is  not  up.     Will  the  Missus  do  ?' 
'  Yes,  the  Missus  will  do." 

"  Step  right  in  dah,  sah,  an'  I  '11  call  her." 


206  Time  and  Chance 

The  little  room  that  he  stepped  into  was  just  on  the 
left  of  the  hallway.  It  was  a  reception  or  waiting  room 
not  more  than  ten  feet  square.  John  noticed  the  lace 
curtains,  the  rich  carpet,  the  sofa  across  the  corner  and 
the  dainty  little  writing  desk.  It  was  such  a  cozy  little 
room ! 

And  yet  it  lacked  something;  yes,  it  was  cold.  The 
dead  ashes  in  the  little  fire-place  neutralized  all  the 
beauty;  he  did  not  sit  down,  but  stood  hat  in  hand, 
looking  out  through  the  lace  curtains  and  picturing  Mar 
garet's  plain  poverty  with  a  cheerful  fire,  to  this  sump 
tuous  apartment  with  its  dead  ashes  on  the  hearth. 
Ugh !  nothing  else  is  so  dead  as  a  fire  gone  out ! 

A  gentle  swish  of  skirts — a  faint  odor  of  violets — he 
turned,  and  on  the  threshold  stood  a  slender,  stately 
woman.  A  woman  of  thirty,  perhaps,  wearing  a  loose 
flowing,  trailing  robe.  Blue — light  blue,  the  color  was; 
this  dress  was  caught  low  at  the  neck  by  a  clasp  of  two 
golden  hearts,  and  at  the  waist  was  a  girdle  that  fell  to 
one  side  and  revealed  a  suggestion  of  the  graceful  hip. 

She  stood  in  the  doorway  like  an  apparition  of  light. 
At  a  glance  John  saw  from  peeping  slippered  toe  to 
golden  crown  of  fluffy  hair.  The  hat  dropped  from  his 
hand;  he  tried  to  move,  to  speak;  but  he  stood  as  one 
transfixed. 

The  woman  hesitated,  as  if  about  to  flee;  she  leaned 
against  the  casing  for  support;  then  she  entered  the 
room  at  one  long  step  and  closed  the  door  behind.  An 
instant  she  stood,  wringing  her  hands,  and  then  her  arms 
were  about  the  boy's  neck.  She  buried  her  face  on  his 
shoulder  and  sobbed:  "John  Brown,  my  brave  John 
Brown,  my  brave  John  Brown!  " 

His  arms  were  about  her,  and  she  drew  him  backward 
until  they  stood  against  the  closed  door. 


Hot  Hopes  Fade  off  into  Mist  207 

"  Don't  cry  so,  Margaret — I  'm  here — tell  me  what  to 
do  for  you." 

But  the  only  answer  she  gave  was  "  John  Brown,  my 
brave  John  Brown!  "  as  her  frame  shook  with  deep  wild 
sobs.  She  clutched  him  in  a  frantic  embrace — her  fingers 
entwining,  now  behind  his  neck  and  then  his  waist.  Then 
these  fingers  stole  through  his  hair:  her  hands  touched 
his  face;  she  pressed  her  cheek  against  his,  and  their  lips 
met  in  one  long,  clinging  kiss.  She  kissed  his  forehead, 
his  eyes,  his  lips,  his  chin,  his  neck,  and  then  her  face 
fell  pillowed  on  his  breast.  His  cheeks  burned  fire  and 
his  frame  was  torn  by  curious  pain — the  exquisite  torture 
of  delirium.  Never,  never  had  he  guessed,  or  even 
faintly  imagined  what  the  unrestrained  passion  of  a 
woman  might  be.  But  what  could  all  this  torrent  mean? 

There  was  a  lull  in  the  storm  as  her  face  pressed  his 
bosom  and  the  perfume    of  her  hair  filled  his  nostrils. 
'  Tell  me,  Margaret — you  answered  my  letter — did  n't 
you — tell  me  yes." 

"  No,  I  did  not  answer  it." 

He  could  feel  the  quiver  of  her  warm  flesh  in  his  em 
brace,  and  he  felt  the  pain  that  he  knew  the  words 
caused  her. 

"  And  the  money  to  make  Jim  free — you  received  that 
safely,  did  n't  you  ?  " 

'  My  brothers  took  it  the  day  it  came — they  went 
away  with  it !  " 

'  Where  did  they  go  ? " 

"  Straight  to  Plainfield  to  steal  the  boy — how  could  I 
stop  them — how  could  I  notify  you !  They  stole  him 
and  sent  him  south." 

"  And  you  were  left  without  money  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  was  starved  into  marrying  Captain  Brydges. " 

"  And  so  you  are  married  ?  " 


208  Time  and  Chance 

"  Yes." 

And  is  hunger  so  hard  to  endure — you  forgot  the 
hunger  of  the  heart  ?  " 

'  Yes,  but  I  know  it  now,  mother  was  ill — oh,  why  did 
you  not  come  a  month  ago — my  John  Brown — rny  brave 
John  Brown!  I  married  him,  John,  I  married  that  old 
man  a  month  ago!  " 

The  woman's  sobs  shook  both  as  she  stood  there,  with 
her  back  to  the  door. 

The  passion  crept  from  the  young  man's  heart,  and  he 
tried  to  free  himself  from  her  grasp.     She  clung  closer 
and   began   kissing  him   again — he   turned   his  head    to 
avoid  her  and  his  glance  fell  on  the  bleak  fire-place. 
My  heart  is  like  those  dead  ashes,"  he  moaned. 
My  husband  is  sleeping  upstairs — he  will  be  down 
soon — you   must  go,  you  must  go.     Come   for  me  to 
night  and  I  will  go  with  you,  we  will  live  anywhere — in 
the  woods — I  can  work,  see  these  hands,  I  can  work!  " 

She  stripped  the  rings  from  her  fingers  and  threw  them 
on  the  floor;  she  held  up  her  two  white  delicate  hands. 

"  Promise  me  that  you  will  be  back  to-night  for  me — 
at  midnight!  " 

14  I  have  no  money — I  could  not  care  for  you  a 
day." 

From  her  bosom  she  took  a  silken  purse  and  forced  it 
into  his  hands.  Still  she  stood,  back  to  the  door.  He 
tried  to  push  past  her — she  barred  the  way:  "  Promise 
to  come  for  me  to-night !  " 

'  No,  no,  no,  it  cannot  be!  " 

You  think  I  am  forward — but  how  would  you  know 
if  I  did  not  tell  you  ?  There  is  no  time  for  coquetry— 
besides,  I  'm  honest,  you  must  know  my  love! 

"Ah!  but  you  are  married — your  husband  is  now 
under  this  roof." 


Much  Effort — Nothing  but  Experience     209 

"  My  legal  husband — yes,  but  you  are  my  husband  be 
fore  God!     I  love  you,  will  you  not  understand  ?  " 
'  But  marriage — is  it  not  sacred  ? " 

"  Nothing  but  love  is  sacred.  A  month  ago  I  was 
married — legal  marriage  may  be  pollution — no,  when  I 
last  saw  you,  I  could  not  have  spoken  thus.  But  I  have 
lived  in  hell — promise  me — to-night  at  midnight !  " 

'  Were  you  not  the  wife  of  another,  yes;  as  it  is,  no." 

She  reached  out  her  arms  in  supplication,  and  fell  for 
ward  clasping  his  knees.  He  picked  her  up,  and  half 
carried  the  limp  form  to  the  little  sofa,  and  laid  it  gently 
down;  dropped  the  purse  on  the  writing  desk;  turned 
quickly  and  passed  out  into  the  hall,  out  of  the  front 
door,  down  the  steps. 

He  untied  his  horse,  mounted  and  rode  slowly  down 
the  hill. 

CHAPTER    XXV 

MUCH    EFFORT   WITH    NOTHING   BUT   EXPERIENCE   AS   A 
NET    RESULT 

ZANESVILLE  held  nothing  but  horror  now  for  young 
Brown.  It  seemed  as  though  the  place  was  pesti 
lence-ridden  ;  he  hastened  away,  casting  frightened  looks 
behind.  Had  he  been  born  in  France  this  might  not 
have  been,  but  generation  after  generation  of  Puritan  an 
cestry  had  bred  in  his  mind  very  sturdy  ideas  of  right 
and  wrong. 

We  have  seen  that  the  Puritan  has  a  flexible  conscience 
in  matters  of  property — that  in  times  of  revolution  the 
Law  of  Moses  is  suspended,  and  following  the  personal 
example  of  Moses,  even  life  might  be  taken.  But  Puri 
tanism  does  not  reckon  on  an  insurrection  of  the  heart ; 

hence  the  scarlet  letter. 
14 


2io  Time  and  Chance 

When  John  Brown  arrived  in  Hudson  after  four  days' 
journeying,  he  was  greeted  with  the  greeting  that  was  the 
Prodigal  Son's.  His  father  kissed  him,  something  that 
had  not  happened  since  his  babyhood.  Nothing  was  too 
good  for  him ;  he  was  told  to  sit  in  the  big  rocking  chair, 
others  took  care  of  his  horse,  neighbors  were  called  in  and 
there  was  merry  feasting. 

When  we  get  home  after  a  journey  we  look  about  at 
all  the  little  furnishings  to  see  what  changes  have  taken 
place ;  everything  interests  us. 

In  the  warmth  of  the  home-getting  John  noticed  a 
black-bordered  card  protruding  from  the  lids  of  the 
family  Bible.  He  took  it  out  and  read :  Died,  suddenly, 
Doctor  Silas  Melden,  at  Plainficld,  Connecticut,  Feb.  jd, 
1818.  Then  followed  a  set  of  eulogistic  resolutions  that 
had  been  adopted  by  the  Hartford  Presbytery,  and 
signed  by  the  pastor  of  the  church  at  Plainfield  as 
secretary. 

John  put  the  card  back,  making  no  sign.  He  inwardly 
computed  that  Doctor  Melden  had  died  just  two  weeks 
after  he  had  left.  He  was  not  surprised  nor  shocked, 
for  his  heart  had  reached  that  stage  which  comes  to  every 
living  mortal,  be  it  early  or  be  it  late,  when  no  earthly 
event  can  agitate. 

'  We  only  got  that  ca.rd  yesterday,"  said  Deacon 
Brown,  "  only  yesterday — I  s'pose  you  sent  it — was  it  a 
glorious  death-bed  ?  We  thought  you  would  be  back — 
hardly  so  soon  though!  Has  n't  he  grown,  though, 
Ruth." 

Yes,  Ruth  was  sure  he  had  grown.  And  he  had 
changed,  changed  more  than  she  dared  mention.  When 
she  heard  that  he  was  at  his  father's  house,  she  put  a 
shawl  over  her  head  and  ran  over  with  little  Rachel  tag 
ging  behind.  But  when  Ruth  saw  the  boy's  face  she 


Much  Effort — Nothing  but  Experience     211 

was  shocked.  Instead  of  kissing  him  she  only  put  out 
her  hand.  She  hesitated,  and  embarrassment  covered  her 
handsome  face.  A  wondrous  change  had  come  over 
her  blithe  lad — some  awful  sorrow  had  touched  him — like 
an  apple  too  much  loved  of  the  sun,  he  was  ready  to 
drop.  His  face  was  seamed,  dark  lines  were  under  his 
eyes,  and  the  marks  of  deep  feeling  were  upon  him. 

No  one  saw  this  but  Ruth — her  subtle  intuition  and 
delicate  womanly  perception,  untrammeled  by  much 
child-bearing,  gave  her  an  insight  that  the  other  women 
of  her  age  who  stood  about  did  not  possess.  They 
thought  him  merely  tired  from  his  long  ride;  but  Ruth 
knew  there  was  tragedy  behind  it  all,  for  boys  do  not 
turn  into  men  in  a  year,  nor  girls  into  women,  unless 
by  chance  they  are  placed  in  the  fires  of  experience.  But 
to  little  Rachel,  pretty,  petite  and  joyous  little  Rachel, 
he  was  the  same  John  Brown.  She  sat  on  his  knee  and 
ran  her  hands  through  his  coarse  hair  and  made  fun  of 
his  clothes,  and  asked  him  if  it  was  so,  that  he  was  to 
preach  in  their  church  next  Sunday. 

And  John  smiled,  a  smile  that  tore  Ruth's  heart,  but 
all  the  rest  laughed  at  Rachel's  little  joke,  and  all  were 
very  merry;  for  brave,  manly  John  Brown  had  come 
back  to  Hudson  and  was  going  to  stay. 

'  His  eyes  troubled  him — how  can  such  as  he,  used  to 
being  out  of  doors,  read  books  all  the  time!  I  tell  you 
't  aint  nature — he  's  come  back  here  to  help  me." 

The  thrifty  Squire  was  delighted  to  get  the  boy  back. 
Really,  he  needed  him  and  now  that  he  was  here  all 
things  should  be  made  pleasant  for  him — he  would  him 
self  make  all  explanations.  And  so  the  Squire  repeated 
the  tale  about  inflammation  of  the  eyes,  and  the  death 
of  Doctor  Melden,  and  incidentally  hinted  at  the  depths 
of  book  'knowledge  that  John  had  acquired:  always 


212  Time  and  Chance 

winding  up  by  the  announcement  that  the  boy  was  going 
to  stay  and  take  care  of  his  father's  tannery  business. 
Evening  came  and  John  proposed  going  over  to  Ruth's 
to  his  own  little  room  in  the  attic.  His  father  pulled 
him  by  the  sleeve  and  whispered : 
'  No,  John,  you  can't." 

"  Can't  do  what  ?  " 

"  Stay  at  Ruth's!  " 
'  Why  not,  pray  ?  " 
'  You  are  too  old,  don't  you  know — too  big." 

John  was  mystified.  But  he  did  as  his  father  requested 
and  packed  himself  away  with  a  whole  half  dozen  little 
boy  Browns  that  slept  in  two  beds  in  a  little  side  room. 

There  was  a  goodly  lot  of  these  Browns,  sisters  and 
brothers,  half-sisters,  half-brothers,  step-brothers,  and 
step-sisters.  It  is  not  necessary  that  we  should  inventory 
them  here,  for  they  have  little  to  do  with  our  narrative. 
They  were  strong,  healthy,  quarreling  youngsters;  cross 
in  the  morning,  busy  all  day,  tired  at  night.  They  had 
mumps  and  measles  and  chicken-pox,  stone  bruises  on 
their  feet  in  spring,  bee  stings  in  summer,  sore  throat  in 
the  fall,  chilblains  in  the  winter,  and  ague  between  times. 

Up  in  the  little  village  grave-yard  there  was  a  row  of 
mounds  in  varying  lengths,  all  marked  Brown,  but  the 
name  did  not  die.  And  whether  the  fittest  survived  is 
not  for  us  to  answer,  but  a  goodly  half  score  grew  to  ma 
turity  and  lived  out  honorable  lives  of  useful  labor. 
They  ate  and  worked  and  slept;  they  were  married  and 
given  in  marriage;  they  lived  and  died,  and  their  good 
deeds  live  after  them.  We  leave  these  sisters  and 
brothers  for  the  statistician  to  group,  for  the  moralist  to 
speculate  upon,  and  for  the  economist  to  figure  over. 
Shakespeare's  seven  brothers  and  sisters  interest  us  but 
little!  so  we  turn  the  page  and  give  our  attention  once 


Much  Effort — Nothing  but  Experience     213 

more  to  the  only  one  of  the  Browns  who  departed  from 
the  common  type. 

Squire  Owen  Brown's  tannery  was  not  a  very  great 
affair,  excepting  in  the  eyes  of  Hudsonites.  It  supplied 
leather  to  various  cobblers  in  the  neighborhood,  and 
rumor  had  it  that  one  shoemaker  had  come  fifty  miles 
for  a  side  of  Brown's  sole  leather.  Then  there  was  trap 
ping  going  on  all  the  time  among  the  farmers'  boys,  and 
skins  had  to  be  tanned  to  make  caps  and  mittens,  and 
even  overcoats;  for  the  spinning  wheel  and  loom  had  not 
quite  driven  buckskin  out  of  fashion. 

Skill,  industry  and  good  judgment  were  required  in 
the  tanning  business,  and  John  had  all  three.  '  This 
one  thing  I  do."  The  young  man  was  sober,  grave,  dig 
nified  ;  he  lived  within  himself,  and  sought  by  hard  work 
to  down  the  sorrow  that  brooded  in  his  heart. 

A  letter  had  been  written  to  Walter  Warren  of  Plain- 
field,  requesting  him  to  forward  certain  books  that  Doc 
tor  Melden  had  presented  to  John.  On  the  fly  leaf  of 
each,  the  young  man's  name  was  written  in  the  good  old 
man's  large,  plain  hand. 

After  several  weeks  the  books  came.  John  had  long 
been  anticipating  them  and  planning  all  by  himself  how 
he  would  read  and  study  and  write  out  his  best  thoughts. 

The  books  arrived  and  he  eagerly  sought  out  a  Plu- 
tarcti s  Lives  that  was  in  the  package.  He  touched  it 
with  trembling  fingers  and  then  put  it  down.  He  tried 
to  read,  but  the  heroes  were  all  so  very  far,  far  away ;  he 
doubted  whether  they  had  ever  really  lived.  He  closed 
the  book,  and  tied  it  up  in  a  piece  of  blue  cloth  that  he 
had  surreptitiously  bought  at  the  store,  and  then  hid  it 
away. 

He  tried  to  read  sEsop's  Fables,  and  the  Life  of  Frank 
lin  and  Pilgrim  s  Progress,  all  of  which  had  interested  him 


214  Time  and  Chance 

greatly,  when  at  Plainfield.  But  then  he  read  because 
he  was  going  to  tell  someone  about  it,  and  now  there 
was  no  one  to  tell,  no  one  to  listen,  no  one  to  whom  he 
could  write.  He  tried  reading  aloud  to  Ruth  and  Rachel. 
The  Widow  Crosby  had  the  brightest  mind  of  any  woman 
in  the  village,  but  books  had  been  denied  her,  and  intel 
lectual  companionship  she  had  never  known.  She 
listened  and  encouraged  the  boy  to  read,  but  there  was 
no  glow  in  her  listening — no  sighs  of  feeling  or  smoth 
ered  exclamations  of  pleasure.  She  listened  because 
John  wished  her  to,  that  was  all. 

And,  as  for  little  Rachel,  she  would  leave  her  chair 
after  five  minutes  and  go  sit  on  John's  knee.  She  would 
take  the  book  from  his  hand  to  look  at  the  pictures,  and 
then  ask  him  to  "  tell  a  story  instead  of  reading  from  the 
ugly  book  that  sounded  just  like  a  sermon." 

And  so  he  would  tell  a  story,  and  as  he  told,  Rachel 
would  gently  pull  his  ears,  or  comb  his  hair,  parting  it 
first  on  one  side,  then  on  the  other,  then  in  the  middle, 
and  call  on  her  mother  to  look  at  his  changed  appearance. 
'  Rachel,  you  are  too  forward — don't  you  know  that 
you  are  a  young  lady  ?  "  said  her  mother  severely  after 
one  more  than  usually  hilarious  frolic. 

"  Of  course  I  'm  a  young  lady  and  John  is  my  big 
brother,  ar'  n't  you,  John  ?  " 

"  Of  course." 

"  No,  he  is  not — you  must  be  more  dignified." 

"  So  I  must." 

And  the  girl  went  over  and  placed  her  arms  about  "her 
big  brother's  "  neck  and  pressed  her  cheek  to  his  and 
laughed  aloud,  and  shook  her  brown  curls  in  innocent 
glee. 

'  You  grieve  me  Rachel — a  girl  of  your  age  acting  so — 
go  to  bed  at  once !  " 


Much  Effort — Nothing  but  Experience     215 

Rachel  whimpered  a  little  and  after  being  told  three 
times,  climbed  the  ladder  into  the  garret  and  in  ten  min 
utes  the  rhythmic  sound  of  long  breaths  told  that  she 
was  fast  asleep. 

"  Don't  go,  John,"  said  Ruth,  with  a  sudden  determi 
nation,  "  don't  go — stay  and  tell  me  what  it  is — you  will 
feel  better." 

"  Tell  you  what,  Ruth  ?" 

'  What  it  is  that  is  troubling  you.  Some  great  sorrow 
has  come  to  you.  Boys  of  eighteen  should  not  have 
dark  lines  beneath  their  eyes,  and  be  so  restless  and  mis 
erable  as  you  are — tell  me  what  it  is !  Perhaps  I  can 
help  you." 

"  Oh,  it  is  nothing." 

'  No,  something  happened  to  you — you  met  someone 
when  you  were  away." 

"  Yes,  I  did!" 

The  young  man  sat  down,  and  Ruth  laid  aside  her 
knitting,  and  her  big,  open,  kindly  eyes  looked  into  his 
and  invited  the  confession  which  every  good  woman 
knows  is  good  for  the  soul. 

And  John  Brown  told  his  tale  of  love,  omitting  noth 
ing  save  that  scene  in  the  little  reception  room.  This  he 
had  no  right  to  breathe — no  one  could  understand  but 
God.  He  merely  said  that  when  he  reached  Zanesville 
he  found  Margaret  Silverton  married  to  an  old  man ;  that 
she  was  unhappy,  and  that,  fearing  he  might  do  that 
which  he  ought  not  to,  he  hurried  away,  and  came 
straight  to  Hudson. 

"  And  you  did  just  right,  John.  When  a  woman 
marries  it  is  for  better  or  worse.  She  must  make  the 
best  of  it." 

But  Margaret  is  so  miserable — I  dream  of  her  unhap- 
piness  every  night — it  seems  as  if  I  must  go  and  see  her." 


216  Time  and  Chance 

Never,  never,  John;  you  must  put  her  out  of  your 
mind.  When  she  married  another,  she  forsook  you." 

But  suppose  she  is  sorry  and  desires  me  to  come  to 
her  ?" 

"  If  she  is  a  good  woman  she  cannot  wish  now  to  see 
you !  " 

'  Do  you  think  so  ?  " 

I  surely  do.  Besides  that,  you  are  young — there  is 
no  haste — you  must  save  your  heart,  save  your  heart  for 
—for  Rachel." 

The  woman  smiled,  reached  over  and  took  both  his 
hands  in  hers. 
"  For  whom  ?  " 

'  Why,  for  Rachel;  it  has  been  the  dream  of  my  life 
ever  since  she  was  born,  aye,  and  before." 

John  withdrew  his  hands  from  hers,  stood  up,  passed 
his  hands  across  his  forehead  and  after  an  instant  said : 
But  Rachel — Rachel  is  a  child — she  is  my  sister." 
"  She  is  nearly  fourteen — she  is  a  woman,  in  fact,  but 
does  not  know  it — yet  you  are  but  children  in  one  sense 
— if  you  marry    in    four   or   five    years,  it    will   be    time 
enough.     Tell  me  now,  John,  you  will  forget  that  mar 
ried  woman ;  it  is  wicked  for  you  to  think  of  her.     Fix 
your  heart  on  Rachel,  just  see  how  she  loves  you! 

Yes,  yes,  she  does  love  me." 

John  said  a  hurried  good-night  and  hastened  away. 
Once  out  in  the  night  air,  he  tried  to  get  hold  of  the 
situation.  He  thought  of  how,  only  an  hour  before,  this 
innocent,  rollicking  little  girl,  who  knew  nothing  of  life 
or  its  responsibilities,  had  sat  on  his  knee  and  pressed  her 
cheek  to  his,  of  how  she  had  stroked  his  hair  and  clasped 
his  face  in  her  hands.  In  it  all  there  was  not  the  slightest 
trace  of  passion ;  she  was  a  child  and  these  things  gave 
him  no  thrill.  He  thought  of  the  quivering  touch  of 


In  the  Grasp  of  Fate  217 

Margaret,  and  the  delirious,  delicious  effect  of  her  warm 
kisses,  and  the  idea  of  a  marriage  with  this  thoughtless 
child  stood  out  before  him  as  a  crime. 

His  wild,  restless  spirit  said,  "  Flee  this  unhappy  sit 
uation — go  back  and  claim  Margaret  at  once.  She  is 
miserable.  Together  you  will  be  happy.  Do  this  and 
you  escape  the  wrong  that  you  may  inflict  on  this  child 
by  staying  here." 

He  went  to  the  barn  and  felt  his  way  into  the  stall 
where  the  brown  horse  stood  quietly  eating  hay.  He 
reached  for  the  saddle  on  the  well-known  peg ;  he  put 
the  saddle  on  the  horse  and  drew  the  girth  tight ;  the 
halter  was  slipped  off  and  the  bridle  rein  over  the  horse's 
head- 
Is  that  you,  John  ?  " 

It  was  his  father's  voice. 

"  Yes." 

''  You  're  out  late — been  for  a  ride  ?  The  baby  's  got 
croup,  I  'm  'fraid — here,  I  '11  take  the  saddle  off  for  you, 
just  run  over  and  tell  the  Widow  Crosby  that  your  mother 
wants  her  to  come  over  right  away!  " 


CHAPTER    XXVI 

IN   THE    GRASP    OF   FATE 

IN  the  little  tannery,  business  was  increasing,  and  the 
legend   concerning   the    shoemaker,  who  came   fifty 
miles  for  a  side  of  the  Brown   sole   leather,  was  trans 
formed  into  a  fact.     Not  only  did  one  shoemaker  come 
a  long  distance,  but  several  came. 

A  commission  was  sent  to  Walter  Warren  to  call  on  the 
farmer  who  owned  the  brown  horse  and  enter  into  an  ar 
rangement  whereby  John  could  pay  for  the  animal  in 


218  Time  and  Chance 

semi-yearly  installments.  The  elder  Warren,  being  con 
sulted  by  his  son,  took  matters  into  his  own  hands,  paid 
for  the  horse,  and  ordered  his  son  to  send  "  the  young 
horse-thief "  the  receipted  bill  of  sale  for  a  birthday 
present. 

John  accepted  the  bill  of  sale  without  a  word  of  thanks, 
and  in  six  months  when  he  had  saved  a  hundred  dollars, 
he  sent  the  money  to  Mr.  Warren,  firmly  declining  the 
present. 

Nearly  a  year  had  passed  since  John  had  returned  from 
Plainfield.  He  had  grown  stronger.  The  burdened, 
restless  mind  did  not  subdue  material  nature;  so  hard 
work,  good  digestion  and  sound  sleep  bore  fruit  in  animal 
vigor. 

He  had  been  a  professed  Christian,  but  he  now  turned 
to  religion  with  renewed  zeal,  as  men  do  when  earthly 
ties  are  severed  and  hearts  are  breaking.  He  sought  to 
find  the  peace  in  religion  that  love  had  denied. 

Sundays  he  usually  took  dinner  at  Ruth's.  It  had 
grown  into  a  habit.  And  during  the  long,  quiet  Sab 
bath  afternoons  these  three  would  sing  and  read  and  talk. 
At  such  times  the  young  man's  spirit  would  almost  break 
into  flame  and  the  ominous  cloud  of  care  that  brooded 
over  him  would  take  wing.  But  soon  the  thought  of 
Margaret  and  of  the  black  depths  of  misery  that  she  was 
enduring  would  come  surging  back. 

With  Ruth  and  Rachel  his  mind  led — he  had  to  talk 
down  to  them — but  with  Margaret  the  position  would  be 
reversed.  Rachel  held  him  back;  but  Margaret  could 
lead  him  on. 

Rachel  was  blossoming  into  a  beautiful  young  woman. 
Bright,  animated,  joyous;  innocent  of  the  world  and  its 
strife,  she  seemed  the  embodiment  of  bird-like  song  and 
simple  mirth.  No  word  of  serious  love  had  passed  be- 


In  the  Grasp  of  Fate  219 

tween  them,  neither  had  her  mother  mentioned  the  sub 
ject  to  the  young  man  since  that  night  he  had  made  his 
confession.  Yet  he  knew  that  the  mother's  ambition 
was  still  the  same;  she  loved  these  children  with  a  high, 
holy  and  unselfish  love ;  she  knew  the  worth  and  the  merit 
of  each ;  she  knew,  too,  the  pitfalls  into  which  youth  are 
apt  to  stumble,  and  she  believed  that  if  they  would  give 
to  each  other  the  love  that  each  was  capable  of,  all  would 
be  secure.  Girls  must  marry !  what  better  then  that  her 
daughter  should  wed  this  noble  young  man  !  If  this  pure 
mother-heart  lapsed  in  her  logic  anywhere,  it  was  in  not 
appreciating  the  depths  of  emotion  possible  in  the  soul  of 
John  Brown.  But  Ruth  reasoned  that  marriage  with 
Rachel  would  benefit  the  boy,  as  tending  to  restrain  his 
undefined  ambition.  And  perhaps  she  was  right.  To 
this  end  she  encouraged  them  to  read  together,  sing 
duets,  and  when  they  went  to  the  woods  for  berries, 
Ruth  managed  to  let  John  and  Rachel  carry  one  basket, 
and  to  wander  away  by  themselves. 

Those  were  days  of  early  marriages.  John  had  seen 
all  this  and  he  felt  that  the  plan  was  working:  his  regard 
for  this  charming  little  creature  was  taking  on  a  different 
character.  Yet  each  Sunday  night  when  he  would  take 
up  his  hat  to  start  for  home,  the  girl  would  hold  up  her 
pretty,  dimpled  face,  and  in  that  harmless  little  peck  that 
passed  for  a  kiss,  John  knew  there  was  not  the  slightest 
passion. 

He  knew  the  strength  of  the  mother's  will,  he  knew 
somewhat  of  his  own  force,  and  he  knew  that  when  the 
question  of  marriage  was  presented  to  Rachel,  that  the 
two  stronger  minds  would  at  once  prevail  and  the  bloom 
ing  little  rosebud  would  not,  could  not,  interpose  a  single 
objection  to  being  clipped  by  cruel  shears  from  the  par 
ent  stem. 


220  Time  and  Chance 

Love  gives  wisdom,  and  although  John  Brown  was 
moving  straight  forward  to  his  union  with  this  girl,  and 
while  there  was  an  attractive  side  to  it  all,  in  his  more 
sober  moments  he  felt  there  was  an  inhuman  side  as  well. 
The  young  man  knew  what  he  was  doing;  the  young 
woman  had  no  conception  of  it.  She  was  a  blind,  pas 
sive  party  to  a  plan.  Fate  was  pushing  her  forward,  and 
she  in  her  innocence  and  ignorance  knew  not  where.  But 
some  day  there  would  be  an  awakening — a  rude,  cruel 
awakening.  Rachel  was  capable  of  love,  but  John  had 
not  awakened  her  to  it;  to  wed  her  would  be  a  sin. 

Besides  all  this,  when  the  warmth  of  young  blood  ran 
quiet,  John  knew  that  Rachel's  spirit  did  not  match  his. 
He  had  suffered,  been  disappointed  ;  sorrow  and  care  had 
come  to  him  in  varied  forms;  he  felt  deeply.  Concern 
ing  these  things  she  knew  nothing,  and  could  not  com 
prehend  should  he  explain.  So  all  their  conversation 
was  quite  in  the  minor  key  and  on  trivial  topics.  He 
knew  down  deep  in  his  heart  that  no  man  should  attach 
himself  for  life  to  a  woman  who  could  not  sympathize 
with  his  every  mood.  To  marry  outside  of  one's  mental 
sphere  was  to  curb  and  stifle  and  hold  in  check  one's 
highest  thought.  John  knew  all  this,  for  love  of  Mar 
garet  had  made  him  wise. 

Three  ways  seemed  to  open  before  him. 

The  first  and  easiest  was  to  drift,  and  in  a  year  marry 
Rachel  Crosby ;  he  need  do  scarcely  a  thing,  all  would 
be  planned  for  him.  All  he  had  to  do  would  be  to  hold 
her  in  his  arms  just  an  instant  some  Sunday  night  when  she 
gave  him  that  little  parting  peck,  and  kiss  her  in  earnest, 
right  before  her  mother.  Then  say  a  few  words  and  all 
would  be  arranged  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  he  would 
move  over  and  take  up  his  abode  at  the  Crosby  cottage 
just  as  he  used  to — only  different. 


In  the  Grasp  of  Fate  221 

The  second  plan  was  to  go  straight  to  Zanesville  and 
claim  the  woman  he  loved ;  claim  her  in  the  name  of  an 
exalted  and  all-absorbing  passion,  and  then  fight  it  out 
with  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  devil. 

The  third  plan  was  to  marry  just  as  nine-tenths  of  all 
the  men  in  the  world  marry ;  pick  the  girl  that  pleases, 
and  provided  she  seems  good-natured  and  strong  and  can 
work  and  will  look  up  to  you,  pop  the  question  some 
moonlight  night,  and  have  it  over  with.  If  she  says  yes, 
all  right,  and  should  she  say  no,  don't  forget  there  's  just 
as  good  fish  in  the  sea  as  ever  were  caught — fol  de  rol  dol, 
la  la  la,  la  te  da!  And  as  for  talk  about  affinities,  it  's  all 
in  your  eye.  People  who  are  willing  to  cultivate  the  two 
bears  can  get  along  all  right — pish ! 

But  in  certain  moods  it  is  very  easy  to  dispose  of  great 
questions.  In  the  mellow  light  of  evening,  for  instance 
as  the  soft  music  plays,  life  and  fate  present  no  serious 
difficulties.  On  the  morrow  when  we  start  off  to  our 
day's  work  and  alone  face  the  cold  realities,  things  ap 
pear  different. 

The  very  best  friend  John  Brown  had  ever  known  was 
Ruth  Crosby.  From  his  very  babyhood  her  affection 
had  nourished  his  soul :  and  his  mind  could  go  back  to 
times  when  in  all  the  big  jostling  world  all  seemed  to 
have  forgotten  him  save  Ruth. 

That  he  should  go  contrary  to  her  wishes  now  seemed 
the  basest  of  ingratitude.  And  why  should  he  not  love 
little  Rachel  ?  There  was  not  a  reason  in  the  world. 
Rachel  was  winsome  in  her  dainty  beauty,  intelligent, 
honest,  happy  in  disposition  and  graceful  in  manner. 

John  loved  her — of  course  he  loved  her.  But  if  she 
would  only  cease  to  kiss  him,  if  she  would  only  avoid  him 
so  he  could  woo  her!  If  she  would  be  agitated  just  a 
little  bit  when  they  met,  or  if  her  cheek  would  color 


222  Time  and  Chance 

when  he  took  her  hand !  But  no,  she  was  absolutely  un 
conscious  and  unrestrained  in  all  of  her  relations  with 
him;  and  she  still  tried  experiments  in  combing  his  un 
ruly  shock  of  hair. 

In  the  midst  of  his  inward  agitations  a  letter  came  from 
Walter  Warren.  He  was  coming  to  Hudson — at  last  he 
was  coming.  His  health  was  not  the  best,  he  had  been 
studying  too  hard,  and  the  doctor  had  advised  a  change. 

In  a  week  he  came,  having  been  duly  heralded  by  John. 
Of  course  he  would  preach  to  the  good  people  of  Hudson 
on  Sunday — all  visiting  preachers  were  expected  to  give 
the  people  a  taste  of  their  quality.  This  was  an  agree 
able  change  for  both  pastor  and  people. 

Warren  was  a  handsome  young  fellow,  tall,  slender  and 
pale.  He  was  used  to  the  ways  of  polite  society,  and 
was  quite  of  a  different  type  from  that  which  the  people 
of  Hudson  were  used  to.  The  men  thought  him  effemi 
nate,  but  the  women  did  not  mind. 

After  church  that  first  Sunday  morning,  John  and 
Walter  dined  at  the  Widow  Crosby's. 

For  the  first  time  Rachel  had  lost  her  free,  girlish,  un 
restrained  manner.  She  was  becomingly  awkward,  and 
quite  blushed  and  stammered  when  the  Rev.  Walter 
Warren  asked  her  if  she  liked  music.  She  upset  a  cup 
of  tea  at  table,  for  which  she  was  gently  reproved  by  her 
mother,  and  John  very  ungraciously  laughed  at  the  acci 
dent,  but  Walter  never  saw  it. 

The  next  Sunday  the  young  men  again  dined  at  Mrs. 
Crosby's.  This  time  the  petite  Rachel  was  not  quite 
so  shy.  In  fact,  she  and  the  Rev.  Mr.  Warren  had  a  nice 
little  conversation  on  the  subject  of  music,  and  she  ex 
plained  that  she  was  passionately  fond  of  singing. 

Then  they  sang — did  these  four — hymns  and  songs  of 
praise :  the  quartette  was  a  success.  Then  they  read  a 


A  Proposal  223 

little  and  talked  some  more.  The  young  men  did  not 
stay  late — work  in  the  tannery  was  pressing  and  John 
had  to  be  up  betimes.  When  they  took  their  hats  and 
said  good-night,  Rachel  sidled  up  to  John  and  put  her 
face  up  to  be  kissed,  just  as  had  been  her  custom  for 
years  and  years.  But  John  noticed  that  it  was  not  the 
usual  meaningless  little  peck — the  girl's  breath  was  warm 
and  her  face  suffused.  Was  this  agitation  for  him  ? 
John  half  doubted  it,  and  a  feeling  of  dislike  toward  the 
Rev.  Walter  Warren  came  over  him.  He  was  sorry  he 
had  ever  invited  him  to  come  to  Hudson. 

"  What  a  charming  little  creature  she  is!  "  said  Walter. 

"  Who  ?  "  asked  John. 

"  Why,  Rachel  Crosby,  of  course." 

"  Oh!" 

'  Yes,  if  she  was  not  yours,  I  would  just  up  and  tumble 
head  over  ears  in  love  with  her — let  me  congratulate  you, 
old  man!  I  saw  you  kiss  her — don't  deny  it — it  's  all 
right !  " 

"  If  you  want  to  see  pretty  girls,  you  will  see  them  at 
the  husking-bee  to-morrow  night  at  Farmer  Lusk's,  '• 
answered  John  grumpily. 


CHAPTER   XXVII 

A   PROPOSAL 

BEAR  and  forbear — that  's  what !  " 
The  speaker  was  a  fine,  buxom,  young  woman  of 
twenty:  strong  and  healthy  and  hearty.  She  had  run 
until  she  was  all  out  of  breath ;  her  cheeks  were  aglow 
and  the  wholesome  perspiration  was  pungent  and  peculiar 
to  the  nostrils  of  the  young  man  who  had  just  caught  her 
after  a  hard  chase. 


224  Time  and  Chance 

It  was  at  the  husking-bee  at  Farmer  Lusk's.  Twenty 
women  and  as  many  men  rilled  the  big  barn,  and  the 
golden  pile  of  ears  was  assuming  goodly  proportions.  Be 
hind  the  busy  workers  were  great  piles  of  stalks. 

Overhead  the  smoky  lanterns  gave  out  shadowy  gleams 
and  dripping  tallow.  The  cattle  in  the  stalls  looked  on 
with  big  open  eyes  and  chewed  their  cuds  in  wondering 
peace,  while  the  horses  gave  little  snorts  of  alarm  at  the 
wild  tumult  of  talk  and  clatter  of  merry  tongues. 

Suddenly  a  rustic  beauty  in  linsey-woolsey  held  up  a 
red  ear.  She  glanced  in  the  direction  of  a  swarthy,  tall 
young  man  who  sat  directly  opposite,  on  the  other  side 
of  the  big  pile  of  corn.  It  was  a  challenge:  both  sprang 
to  their  feet  amid  a  loud  burst  of  laughter.  There  was  a 
quick  swish  of  skirts  and  the  nimble  girl  sprang  over  the 
manger— ran  past  the  line  of  cows,  and  on  out  the  door. 
Close  behind  her  footed  the  young  man,  cheered  on  by 
merry  cries  from  the  group  of  buskers.  Twice  around 
the  barn  they  ran,  once  around  the  granary,  then  out  by 
the  house  and  down  the  road.  The  snow  lay  smooth  and 
white,  and  over  all  glistened  the  splendid  mid-winter 
moon. 

No  woman  can  outrun  a  man,  even  if  she  wants  to. 

A  hundred  yards  down  the  road  the  young  man  caught 
her. 

"  Let  's  not  be  foolish,  John !  " 

The  panting  girl  gave  the  red  ear  of  corn  a  careless  toss 
out  into  the  night. 

'  That  's  so — such  silly  business  is  not  becoming!  " 

The  girl  was  not  o'er  wise,  but  this  time  she  guessed 
the  mind  of  her  man.  She  gave  him  her  hand  and  they 
started  back  slowly  toward  the  merry-makers. 

They  were  alone. 

"  Did  you  see  that  Mary  Bowers,  how  she  spoke  to  her 


A  Proposal  225 

husband — and  only  married  a  year— think  of  it!"  said 
the  girl. 

'  Well,  he  was  cross  to  her." 
,       '  Bear  and  forbear,  that  's  what !  " 

You  mean  we  should  always  be  patient  with  each 
other  ? " 

Of  course;  when  I  get  married — that  is,  if  I  ever  do 
— I  '11  never  say  a  cross  word  to  my  husband !  " 
You  say,  '  if  you  ever  get  married  '?  " 
Yes,  I  never  expect  to  marry." 
"  Why  not  ?  " 

No  one  will  ever  want  a  poor,  ignorant,  homely 
thing  like  me." 

The  words  came  out  with  a  half  whimper  as  if  the  girl 
was  about  bursting  into  tears.  Both  stopped  there  in 
the  roadway. 

I  want  you,  Dianthe." 
'  You,  John  Brown  ?  " 
'  Yes,  Dianthe  Lusk,  will  you  be  my  wife  ? " 

Why,  yes,  if  mother  don't  care,  and  I  know  she 
won't !  " 

There  was  a  great  big  resounding  smack  that  might 
have  been  heard  by  the  corn  huskers  over  in  the  barn  had 
they  been  listening.  But  they  were  not  listening. 

And  when  shall  we  get  married  ?  "  asked  the  youth 
as  they  walked  slowly  along,  his  arm  around  her  ample 
waist. 

In  six  weeks,"  said  the  girl. 

'  No,  a  year  from  to-night.     I   will  have  to  build  a 
house !  " 

"  Very  well,  but  aint  it  funny  ?  We  have  n't  ever  kept 
company!  " 

Yet  it  suddenly  came  over  them  that  the  marriage  of  a 
man  and  woman  was  not  so  funny  after  all. 


226  Time  and  Chance 

They  approached  the  barn  and  took  their  places  among 
the  busy  workers — but  they  did  not  laugh  or  joke.    Over 
the  growing  pile  of  yellow  ears  they  now  and  again  stole 
sober  glances  at  each  other ;  sober,  serious  glances  that , 
spoke  of  subdued  joy  and  anchored  hope. 

After  all  the  corn  had  been  husked,  and  the  feast  in 
the  kitchen  was  over,  and  the  barn  locked  and  the  last 
laughing  merry-maker  had  departed,  Dianthe  Lusk  told 
her  father  and  mother  of  what  had  occurred. 

The  next  day  several  neighbors  knew  of  it — in  a  week, 
everybody.  It  was  looked  upon  as  a  good  match,  and 
the  Browns  and  the  Lusks  being  prominent  people  in  the 
vicinity,  of  course  the  event  supplied  food  for  much 
harmless  gossip. 

But  it  was  quite  overshadowed  when  early  the  follow 
ing  month,  the  engagement  was  announced  of  the  Rev. 
Walter  Warren  and  Miss  Rachel  Crosby. 


BOOK  THREE 


227 


CHAPTER   I 

SO    RUNS   THE    WORLD   AWAY — A   LETTER 

UNTIL  yesterday,  when  a  dissecting  school  of  tale 
tellers  arose,  it  was  the  fashion  to  close  the  story 
at  the  church  door.  Beyond  this  the  romancer  dared  not 
pass.  And  this  is  well.  In  tragedy  we  take  our  leave 
of  the  hero  when  he  is  given  over  to  the  undertaker;  and 
in  romance,  usually,  all  is  over  when  the  priest  arrives. 

John  Brown  was  married.  He  built  a  little  house,  on 
a  corner  of  his  father's  land.  His  wife  was  a  good  house 
keeper  —  active,  industrious,  honest.  She  cooked, 
scrubbed,  sewed  and  on  Sunday  they  went  to  church. 
They  talked  together — did  John  Brown  'and  his  wife — 
talked  of  the  weather  and  the  crops  and  the  price  of 
wool;  of  the  neighbors,  and  this  one's  bonnet  and  that 
one's  horse.  They  read  the  Bible — a  chapter  a  day — be 
ginning  at  Exodus  and  going  straight  through,  skipping 
not  a  pedigree,  omitting  nothing. 

The  dreams  and  hopes  and  aspirations  of  youth  were 
buried  deep  down  in  John  Brown's  heart. 

New  views  of  truth  no  longer  opened  out  to  him  ;  high 
and  holy  impulses  no  longer  warmed  his  blood  like  wine; 
the  sunsets  now  never  brought  tears  to  his  eyes  from 
well-springs  of  undefined  emotion — never. 

He  worked  in  the  tannery  from  morning  until  night, 
six  days  a  week ;  and  on  Sundays  he  wore  stiff,  uncom 
fortable  clothes  and  listened  to  sermons  that  he  accepted 

229 


230  Time  and  Chance 

without  comment.  He  was  religious.  The  Jehovah  of 
the  Jews  to  him  was  God,  and  the  torn  and  bleeding 
thorn-crowned  Christ  meant  only  a  cog  in  a  "  scheme  " 
of  salvation. 

He  had  "  settled  down  " — or  was  making  a  heroic  in 
ward  struggle  to  do  so.  Patient,  persistent  labor  always 
brings  its  reward.  John  Brown  was  making  money;  the 
little  house  was  paid  for;  he  had  several  hundred  dollars 
to  loan  ;  he  now  owned  an  interest  in  the  tannery.  And 
then  the  neighbors  respected  him,  for  they  had  elected 
him  District  Surveyor. 

Ten  years  had  passed  since  his  marriage.  There  was 
a  dog's-eared  Plutarch  hidden  away  in  the  bottom  of  an 
oaken  chest.  Possibly  once  a  year — at  night-time — when 
there  was  sickness  and  he  sat  up  with  the  stricken  ones, 
he  had  taken  out  the  book,  turned  the  pages  aimlessly, 
sighed  and  put  the  volume  back. 

John  Brown  was  thirty  years  of  age.  His  face  was 
seamed,  his  stiff,  straight  hair  was  slightly  tinged  with 
gray.  The  roundness  had  gone  from  his  wife's  face,  and 
the  bearing  and  nursing  of  six  children  had  taken  the 
lines  of  beauty  from  her  form.  She  worked  hard,  and 
tended  her  little  flock  well,  and  if  she  scolded  a  bit  at 
times,  who  is  there  so  perfect  that  he  dares  blame?  Her 
eyes  were  hollow,  her  cheeks  yellow,  her  hands  red,  cal 
loused  and  coarse. 

So  the  days  passed,  and  in  the  thirteenth  year  of  her 
marriage  she  died.  The  neighbor  women  robed  her  in 
her  wedding  dress.  It  had  been  packed  away  in  lavender 
all  these  years  in  the  oaken  chest  with  the  dog's-eared 
Plutarch.  Pillowed  on  her  arm,  they  placed  her  baby 
boy — tired  with  three  days  of  life.  And  so  they  slept. 

Five  children  were  left — one  had  died  when  four  years 
old — five  healthy,  hearty,  romping  children.  Their 


So  Runs  the  World  Away — A  Letter      231 

father  was  postmaster,  farmer,  tanner,  surveyor,  and  rich 
for  those  days.  He  could  not  care  for  those  children  any 
more  than  he  could  personally  look  after  his  herds.  And 
so  he  cast  about  for  a  wife. 

What  sort  of  a  wife  did  he  desire  ?  Why,  bless  your 
soul,  he  wanted  just  such  a  wife  as  he  had  lost !  a 
capable,  honest,  earnest,  Christian  woman  who  could 
care  for  the  household  and  keep  things  in  order  when  he 
was  at  home  and  look  after  matters  when  he  was  away. 
He  was  a  man  of  affairs  and  things  must  be  attended  to. 
A  widower  with  means  can  take  his  pick  of  marriageable 
women,  just  as  a  man  with  money  buys  the  horse  he 
fancies. 

Fathers,  mothers  and  kinsmen  all  plead  his  cause 
and  press  his  suit.  What  chance  has  naked  little 
Cupid,  shivering  in  the  chill,  against  such  advocates  as 
these ! 

John  Brown  cast  about  for  a  woman  who  looked  just 
as  Dianthe  Lusk  did  before  she  had  borne  seven  children. 

He  found  one — Mary  Anne  Day.  He  proposed  to  her 
father,  then  her  mother,  and  the  subject  was  broached  to 
Mary  herself. 

She  was  willing — nay  more — she  was  pleased. 

And  right  here,  let  us  nail  to  the  barn  door  of  obli 
quity  the  pelt  of  that  flaunting  falsehood  that  women  sell 
themselves  for  a  home.  According  to  our  peculiar  social 
code  a  woman  marries  (or  refuses)  the  man  who  seeks  her 
hand.  She  waits  for  the  man  to  come  to  her.  Nine 
times  out  of  ten  she  accepts  the  first  that  comes — and 
the  fact  that  he  is  willing  to  make  her  his  wife  is  proof 
of  his  love,  and  further  is  sufficient  reason  why  she 
should  love  him,  and  she  does.  We  are  not  lilies  of  the 
field,  and  there  are  no  ravens  that  can  be  relied  upon  to 
bring  us  food.  A  woman  must  be  clothed  and  fed,  and 


232  Time  and  Chance 

what  more  natural  than  that  she  should  love  the  man  who 
promises  as  much  ? 

Widower  Brown  hitched  up  the  mules  to  a  spring 
wagon  and  drove  over  to  Farmer  Day's,  and  a  preacher 
was  there  who  married  John  and  Mary.  And  then  the 
couple  drove  back  to  John's  house  and  Mary  was  mother 
to  the  motherless  children ;  the  faithful,  loyal,  patient 
wife  of  John  Brown. 

In  this  chapter  we  have  treated  thirteen  years  as  men 
measure  time.  Only  one  chapter  to  a  heaping  dozen 
years  ?  Yes,  that  is  all.  The  historical  romance  has  for 
its  theme  the  evolution  of  a  soul.  Material  things  are 
only  touched  upon  as  they  influence  for  good  or  ill. 

In  crossing  the  United  States  there  are  great  stretches 
of  arid  space  where  the  sun  beats  down  hot  and  stifling; 
where  only  cacti,  sage  brush  and  the  dried  up  beds  of 
streams  are  seen,  and  where,  over  all  is  the  shining  alkali 
dust — aye,  and  the  whitening  bones  of  animals  and  men. 
So  there  are  stretches  in  the  life  of  mortals  where  the  soul 
travels  through  arid  districts  of  uneventful  time,  victim 
of  "  arrested  development." 

All  savages  are  prey  to  this  law ;  an  Indian  at  forty 
knows  no  more  than  an  Indian  at  thirty;  there  is  no 
advancement;  the  soul  stands  still.  The  average  man 
of  fifty  is  no  better,  no  wiser,  than  he  was  at  forty. 
John  Brown  at  thirty-two  was  no  nearer  to  God  than 
he  was  at  twenty — and  possibly  he  had  drifted — who 
knows  ? 

Three  years  went  by  and  Mary  Anne  Day  added  three 
sons  to  the  house  of  Brown. 

Brown  ruled  his  family  like  one  of  the  patriarchs  of  old. 
They  obeyed  without  question.  He  was  stern,  dignified, 
sober  and  withal  prosperous  and  religious.  Had  he  con 
tinued  to  focus  his  efforts  on  business,  he  might  have 


So  Runs  the  World  Away — A  Letter      233 

become  very  rich  and  left  a  fortune  to  found  a  theologi 
cal  seminary. 

But  a  letter  came  to  him  one  day.  He  received  many 
letters  now  ;  but  he  picked  this  one  out  from  a  half-dozen 
others  and  it  gave  him  a  thrill — a  start.  And  there 
flashed  over  his  memory  the  thought  of  the  first  letter 
that  he  had  ever  received.  He  was  ashamed  to  think 
that  he — John  Brown — a  man  happily  married  to  his 
second  wife,  the  father  of  eight  fine  children — practical, 
virtuous,  sensible,  should  tremble  at  the  sight  of  his 
name  written  in  a  certain  chirography — pshaw! 

He  put  the  letter  in  a  left  hand  vest  pocket  and  read 
the  others. 

That  afternoon  he  rode  to  his  farm  four  miles  out  of 
town.  Passing  through  a  grove  he  reined  in,  dis 
mounted,  sat  down  on  a  stump,  looked  carefully  about 
and  took  the  letter  out  of  his  pocket. 

He  broke  the  wafers  and  read : 

COVINGTON,  KY.,  June  2,  1835. 
JOHN  BROWN: 

SIR — You  have  not  forgotten  me,  although  you  may  be  sur 
prised  to  receive  this  letter.  My  husband  died  eight  years  ago 
and  left  me  an  ample  competence.  I  have  one  child,  a  son 
seventeen  years  old.  He  is  now  in  college,  but  is  in  full 
sympathy  with  my  work.  I  am  using  my  time  and  money, 
endeavoring  to  ameliorate  the  condition  of  the  slaves  and  slave 
owners.  For  the  slave  owner  is  the  greatest  sufferer  from  this 
thing  which  John  Wesley  called  "the  sum  of  all  human 
villainies." 

Doubtless  you  will  think  I  am  a  fanatic  and  have  been 
moved  to  act  in  this  matter  from  a  spirit  of  revenge,  and  I 
cannot  wholly  absolve  myself  from  such  a  charge. 

Slavery  teaches  the  slave  owner  and  his  family  that  labor  is 
degrading  and  thus  it  breeds  a  pride  that  is  akin  to  vice.  My 


234  Time  and  Chance 

brothers  are  gamblers  and  outcasts,  and  my  father  is  in  a 
suicide's  grave,  all  through  the  false  idea  that  men  should  be 
owned  by  other  men.  And  had  my  brothers  been  different 
men,  your  fate  and  mine  might  have  been  different;  but  that 
is  all  behind.  Then  that  men  should  traffic  in  their  own 
children  is  one  of  the  concomitants  of  the  condition.  These 
things  have  come  close  home  to  me  and  if  you  think  I  feel  o'er 
deeply,  pardon  me  my  intemperance  and  hear  me  when  I  say 
that  my  years  on  earth  are  few  and  I  would  leave  the  earth 
better  than  I  found  it. 

When  you  assisted  Jim  Slivers  to  escape,  you  gave  me  a 
hint  that  has  never  left  me.  Of  course,  the  running  away  of 
slaves  will  not  in  itself  break  up  the  institution,  but  it  will 
cause  a  fermentation  that  must  make  men  take  sides,  and 
some  day  this  will  break  into  revolution  and  the  end  of  slavery 
will  come  in  a  day.  In  the  meantime,  we  are  preparing  the 
way. 

In  a  week  or  less  there  will  arrive  at  your  house  by  night 
four  blacks,  guided  by  a  white  man,  James  Golden  by  name. 
This  man  you  knew  in  your  boyhood.  For  reasons  that  I  need 
riot  detail  he  is  dear  to  me.  He  is  guiding  these  black  men  to 
Conneaut,  O.,  where  a  small  schooner  is  in  waiting  to  carry 
them  to  Canada.  You  must  secrete  them  and  feed  them  and 
not  start  them  forward  on  their  perilous  journey  until  they 
are  rested. 

Remember  I  do  not  encourage  slaves  to  run  away  except 
they  are  to  be  separated,  man  from  wife,  or  mother  from  child. 
In  which  case  I  do  what  I  can. 

I  have  heard  of  your  prosperity  and  am  glad  to  know  that 
you  are  happily  married. 

In  this  letter  I  have  confided  in  you  entirely,  and  although 
I  do  not  know  your  present  attitude  on  the  Negro  question,  I 
yet  ask  you  to  do  that  which  I  have  asked  in  remembrance  of 
what  has  gone  before. 

Respectfully  Yours, 

MARGARET  BRYDGES. 


The  Underground  Railway  235 

CHAPTER   II 

THE   UNDERGROUND   RAILWAY 

TANNERY,  farm,  sheep,  cattle  — all  fell  into  abey 
ance.  This  sober,  stern-faced  man,  whom  no  one 
had  ever  accused  of  possessing  a  particle  of  sentiment, 
suddenly  forgot  the  practical  things  of  earth  and  was  all 
aflame  to  do  the  bidding  of  a  woman — a  woman  whom  he 
had  not  seen  for  years. 

Misty  rumors  had  come  to  him  from  time  to  time  of 
the  "  underground  railway,"  but  he  had  never  believed 
that  there  was  such  a  thing  in  existence.  Long  years  be 
fore,  in  the  days  of  his  callow  youth,  he  had  accidentally 
been  mixed  up  in  getting  a  slave  away,  but  the  scheme 
had  failed.  And  it  was  just  as  well,  for  it  was  only  a 
boyish  freak  at  best. 

Of   course  John   Brown   had    no  sympathy   with  the 
peculiar  institution  "  ;  he  believed  that  it  must  event 
ually  be  done  away  with  ;  and  in  a  scrap  book  that  he  had 
begun  fifteen  years  before,  and  which  had  not  since  re 
ceived  a  new  clipping,  was  this  quotation  from  Jefferson  : 

The  whole  commerce  between  master  and  man  is  an  ex 
ercise  of  the  most  boisterous  passions,  the  most  unremit 
ting  despotism  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  most  degrading 
submissions  on  the  other.  Our  children  see  these  things 
and  imitate  them.  The  man  must  be  a  prodigy  who  can 
contain  his  morals  and  manners  undepraved  under  such 
circumstances.  And  with  what  execration  should  that 
statesman  be  loaded  who,  permitting  one  half  the  citizens 
to  trample  on  the  rights  of  others,  transforms  these  into 
despots  and  those  into  enemies;  destroys  the  morals  of 
the  one  and  the  liberty  of  the  other!  And  can  the  lib 
erties  of  a  nation  be  secure  when  we  have  removed  their 
only  firm  basis — a  conviction  in  the  minds  of  the  people 
that  these  liberties  are  the  gift  of  God,  and  that  they 


236  Time  and  Chance 

cannot  be  violated  without  His  wrath  ?  Indeed,  I  tremble 
for  my  country,  when  I  reflect  that  God  is  just;  that  His 
justice  cannot  sleep  forever;  that,  considering  numbers, 
nature,  and  natural  means  only,  a  revolution  of  the  wheel 
of  fortunes  is  among  possible  events;  that  it  may  become 
probable  by  supernatural  interference.  The  Almighty 
has  no  attribute  that  can  take  sides  with  us  in  such  a  con 
test. 

Owen  Brown  had  taught  his  children  by  words  dropped 
here  and  there,  that  slavery  was  wrong;  and  as  children 
are  heir  to  the  religious  and  political  opinions  of  their 
parents,  they  all  believed  that  some  day  the  bondsmen 
would  be  made  free.  They  believed  this  just  as  they  be 
lieved  in  the  "  Resurrection  of  the  body,"  the  coming  of 

Judgment  Day,"  and  the  approach  of  the  "  Millen 
nium."  As  to  bringing  about  the  Millennium,  that  was 
none  of  their  affair — they  had  other  work  to  do. 

John  Brown  sat  there  on  the  stump  and  read  that  let 
ter  the  second  time.  A  wild  tumult  of  emotion  swept 
through  his  heart.  She  was  alive!  She  was  alive!  Not 
a  word  had  he  heard  from  Margaret  for  eighteen  years. 
He  had  mourned  her  as  dead,  for  how  was  it  possible 
that  such  a  frail,  delicate  creature  could  exist  under  the 
conditions  that  surrounded  her  when  last  they  met ! 

She  was  alive — she  had  a  son — she  was  living  for  a 
purpose! 

His  own  life  stretched  out  into  a  flat,  desert  waste. 
Where  now  were  all  his  proud  possessions  ?  He,  too, 
had  a  son,  yes,  several  of  them,  and  daughters  as  well.  He 
loved  them,  of  course — it  was  a  father's  duty  to  love  his 
children.  Two  of  them  had  died  and  over  their  graves 
grew  a  tangle  of  blackberry  bushes  and  trailing  vines. 

Margaret's  years  had  doubled  since  he  had  seen  her. 
Was  her  hair  still  wavy  and  golden  ?  Had  age  touched 
her  lightly  and  had  she  in  these  eighteen  fleeting  years 


The  Underground  Railway  237 

often  thought  of  him  ?  Or  had  he  dropped  out  of  her 
life  entirely,  until  now  someone  had  mentioned  his 
name  ?  And  her  son — did  he  look  like  her  ? 

The  horse  began  to  paw;  the  man  mounted  and  in 
stead  of  going  on  to  his  farm  rode  back  to  town.  He 
went  straight  home  and  showed  the  letter  to  his  wife. 

She  read  the  missive  with  an  air  of  impatience ;  and 
then  went  on  industriously  rolling  pie-crust. 
Well  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Brown. 

Where  shall  we  stow  them  ? — that  's  the  question!  " 

But  who  is  this  Margaret  Bulge  that  writes  so  as  a 

matter  of  course  and  never  even  says  '  by  your  leave     ?  " 

Margaret  Brydges  ?  why,  don't  you  know — she  was 

Margaret  Silverton — I  have  told  you  of  those  rich  people 

in  Zanesville  that  I  got  acquainted  with  when  I  was  a 

boy ! 

"  Oh,  seems  to  me  I  heard  you  tell  the  children  some 
story  about  going  to  Zanesville  with  cattle!  " 

Why,  yes,  now  you  have  it — but  these  runaways — 
we  may  have  to  keep  them  several  days.  The  neighbors 
must  not  know  and  the  children  must  not  know — 

'  But  both  will  know  and  you  will  be  arrested  and  sent 
off  to  prison  !  " 

"  No,  Mary,  these  negroes  are  human  beings  and  we 
must  give  our  mite  and  help  them  to  a  place  of  freedom." 
'  Well,  if  you  are  bound  to  risk  your  neck,  I  s'pose 
the  cave  is  the  best  place!  " 

Mrs.  Brown  always  at  first  opposed  her  husband's 
plans — not  seriously,  perhaps,  but  just  through  habit. 
Such  a  will  as  his  could  not  be  successfully  opposed,  and 
on  all  points,  his  opinions  soon  became  hers.  It  is  much 
easier  to  accept  the  views  of  a  strong  mind  than  to  con 
trovert  them ;  we  move  in  the  line  of  least  resistance. 
The  "  cave  "  was  simply  an  outside  cellar;  a  contriv- 


238  Time  and  Chance 

ance  very  common  in  those  days  and  plentiful  yet  in  the 
West,  where  they  are  known  as  "  dug-outs."  By  dig 
ging  down  two  or  three  feet  and  then  building  a  low  log 
house,  with  a  pitched  roof,  made  also  of  logs,  and  the 
whole  banked  up  and  covered  with  earth,  the  cave  was 
complete.  It  was  frost  proof  in  winter,  heat  proof  in 
summer,  and  wind  proof  the  whole  year  round. 

This  cave  was  twenty  feet  long  and  ten  wide ;  and  the 
thrifty  John  Brown  usually  had  packed  away  there 
enough  provisions  to  keep  his  family  a  year. 

'  The  cave!  that  's  so,  it  's  the  only  place  where  the 
children  do  not  play  and  the  neighbors  don't  go.  It 
takes  a  woman  to  think  of  things!  " 

Mary  was  pleased,  and  now  in  full  accord  with  her 
husband's  wishes.  She  looked  carefully  around — all  of 
the  children  were  off  in  the  woods  save  the  three  little 
ones  who  were  too  small  to  tell. 

Husband  and  wife  went  to  the  cave  to  make  arrange 
ments  for  visitors.  Boxes  and  barrels  were  piled  up 
snugly  and  clean,  dry  straw  was  brought  from  the  barn. 
Over  this  were  thrown  blankets;  extra  quilts  were 
brought  from  the  house  and  several  beds  were  robbed  of 
pillows  in  order  that  the  weary  runaways  might  rest.  A 
new  hasp  was  put  on  the  cave  door,  closed  with  a  pad 
lock,  and  as  Mr.  Brown  held  up  the  key,  Mrs.  Brown 
smiled,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  now  we  have  'em." 

John  Brown  slept  with  one  eye  open  that  night,  but 
the  Scotch  collie  did  not  bark  once  the  whole  night 
through.  Neither  did  he  the  next  night,  nor  the  next, 
and  a  full  week  passed  with  no  change  in  the  monotonous 
round  of  existence. 

Mrs.  Brown  was  feeling  quite  sure  the  whole  matter 
was  a  hoax,  and  Mr.  Brown  feared  that  the  fugitives 
had  been  recaptured. 


The  Underground  Railway  239 

It  was  near  two  weeks  before,  one  night,  a  clatter  of 
sand  tossed  against  the  side  of  the  house  awoke  John 
Brown.  He  jumped  out  of  bed  and  hurrying  on  his 
clothes,  went  to  the  door. 

Do  you  want  to  race  horses  ?  "  came  a  voice  out  of 
the  darkness.  Eighteen  years  had  passed  since  the  vibra 
tion  of  sound  waves  from  that  throat  had  fallen  on  his 
tympanum.  It  was  the  same  Jim  Slivers. 

Yes,  Jim,  I  '11  race  you — wait  till  I  get  a  lantern." 
'  No,  no,  we  don't  need  a  light." 

The  men  shook  hands  as  though  they  had  parted  but 
the  week  before. 

"  And  your — your  runaways  ?  "  asked  Brown. 
'  They  are  here,  where  will  you  keep  them — in  the 
clock  ?  " 

No,  in  the  cave  yonder." 
Just  the  place,  I  knew  you  had  sense!  " 
The  two  men  walked  down  the  road  a  hundred  yards, 
and  in  the  shadows  of   the    bushes  were  six  crouching 
figures.     At  a  sign  from  Jim  they  came  trooping  out  into 
the  road  and  followed  their  leader  straight  to  the  cave. 
The  mellow  moonlight  revealed  the  long  straw  bed.     A 
blanket  was  given  to  each  of  the  six  dark  figures  and 
without  a  word  they  lay  down  to  rest. 

"  Is  there  grub  here  to  last  until  to-morrow  night  ?  " 
asked  Jim. 

'  Yes,  a  boiled  ham,  cold  potatoes  and  seven  loaves 
of  bread." 

Brown  brought  a  two-gallon  can  of  milk  from  the 
spring  house,  and  then  the  cave  door  was  shut  and  locked 
and  the  key  given  to  Jim. 

The  first  faint  pink  streaks  were  coloring  the  east,  and 
the  loud  twitter  of  birds  in  the  bushes  told  of  coming 
day. 


240  Time  and  Chance 

'  I  've  been  to  Hudson  before,  you  know — will  any  o' 
my  friends  recognize  me  ? "  asked  Jim. 

"  After  all  these  years  ?  no.  We  are  men  now:  when 
you  were  here  last,  you  were  but  a  boy." 

The  men  sat  down  on  a  log  at  the  wood-pile. 

"  And  Margaret — tell  me  of  Margaret — is  she  well  ? " 

"  Oh,  you  mean  the  Missus  ?  " 

"Yes,  when  did  you  see  her  last  ?  " 

"  A  month  ago — she  lives  in  Cincinnati." 

"  And  how  did  you  ever  get  back  to  her  ?  " 
'  Well,  I  '11  tell  you — it  was  like  this — " 

And  Jim  told. 

CHAPTER   III 

JIM    SLIVERS    RECOUNTS   HISTORY 

ALL  of  our  acts  merge  so,  one  into  the  other,  that  in 
our  own  minds,  life  with  its  tragic  tumults  comes 
all  as  a  matter  of  course.  Lightning  never  strikes  out  of 
a  clear  sky,  the  storm  clouds  gradually  gather;  so  to 
every  crisis  there  is  a  gradual  approach.  Jim's  experi 
ence,  to  him,  did  not  seem  extraordinary. 

When  he  was  seized  by  the  two  legal  kidnappers  at 
Plainfield,  he  soon  saw  the  uselessness  of  struggle.  One 
of  the  men  was  George  Silverton,  the  other  was  a  profes 
sional  detective.  Jim  was  handcuffed  to  the  officer,  and 
George  looked  after  them  both,  treating  one  just  as  well 
as  the  other.  They  went  by  boat  from  New  Haven  to 
New  York,  and  then  took  passage  on  a  schooner  direct 
to  Savannah.  There  was  much  eating,  drinking  and  mak 
ing  merry  on  the  way,  in  all  of  which  Jim  had  his  share. 

He  was  a  valuable  piece  of  property  and  the  men  were 
not  at  all  inclined  to  maltreat  him.  A  live,  good- 


Jim  Slivers  Recounts  History  241 

natured  nigger  was  worth  six  hundred  dollars;  a  sick, 
dispirited  nigger  might  be  worth  half  as  much,  and  a 
dead  nigger  was  not  worth  anything. 

From  scraps  of  conversation  and  the  bilge  of  boozy 
talk  eked  out  during  the  ten  days'  time,  Jim  surmised 
that  someone  had  sent  money  to  Margaret  to  purchase 
his  freedom.  And,  moreover,  he  discovered  that  a  bar 
gain  had  been  entered  into  between  George  and  James 
Silverton ;  James  taking  the  money  and  George  the 
slave — provided  he  could  catch  him,  and  catch  him  he 
surely  did  ;  of  this  Jim  was  sure. 

At  Savannah,  Jim  was  sold  at  auction,  and  sent  to 
Mississippi.  He  did  not  deem  this  any  special  hardship 
— dozens  of  other  slaves  were  sold  too  ;  what  about  it ! 

He  had  to  work  hard,  but  after  a  year,  being  intelligent 
and  willing,  he  was  given  charge  of  a  cotton-gin,  and  then 
in  another  year  he  was  given  charge  of  a  mulatto  girl  and 
they  were  married  after  the  manner  of  the  times.  They 
had  their  own  little  house  and  were  living  happily — he 
attending  to  the  cotton-gin  and  she  acting  as  laundress. 

About  this  time  a  certain  New  Orleans  cotton  buyer 
appeared  upon  the  scene  and  took  a  great  fancy  to  Mrs. 
Jim  Slivers.  In  fact,  he  bought  her,  and  as  salve  for  his 
broken  heart,  Jim  was  given  his  pick  of  five  black 
wenches.  But  Jim  had  a  streak  of  white  man's  senti 
ment  in  his  heart,  a  very  inconvenient  thing  to  possess, 
and  he  pined  for  his  lost  mulatto  girl,  and  was  even  so 
unreasonable  as  to  refuse  to  look  upon  the  dusky 
wenches.  His  master  took  his  melancholy  for  a  case  of 
grumps  and  duly  gave  him  twenty  lashes  on  the  bare 
back.  He  was  ordered  to  take  to  his  bosom  one  of  the 
brunette  belles  and  be  happy,  and  if  he  still  refused, 
there  were  the  rice  swamp  and  the  cotton  fields  for  him 
and  all  other  rebellious  ingrates. 


1 6 


242  Time  and  Chance 

A  month  before  this  alternative  was  offered,  Jim  had  dis 
patched  a  letter  to  Margaret  Silverton  at  Zanesville,  tell 
ing  her  of  his  condition.  Now  it  was  a  very  serious  offense 
for  a  slave  to  send  a  letter  that  had  not  on  it  the  master's 
seal,  and  slaves  were  not  allowed  to  receive  letters. 

Jim  did  not  expect  an  answer,  and  in  fact  he  had  no 
well  defined  reasons  for  writing  to  Margaret  at  all,  save 
perhaps  to  show  her  that  he  had  not  forgotten  how  to 
write,  for  she  it  was  who  had  taught  him  this  accom 
plishment — much  against  her  father's  will. 

But  one  day  Jim  was  hastily  hustled  out  of  the  ginnery 
by  his  master  and  ordered  to  run  to  the  creek,  take  a 
swim,  dress  himself  in  a  new  suit  of  white  duck  and  hurry 
up  to  the  City  Tavern. 

He  was  occasionally  loaned  out,  or  hired  out,  to  act  as 
waiter  when  there  were  banquets  at  the  hotel;  so  he 
promptly  obeyed  as  a  matter  of  course. 

But  on  getting  to  the  tavern,  great  was  his  astonish 
ment  on  being  met  by  a  tall,  slender,  handsome,  lovely, 
angelic  lady,  in  pale  blue,  who  wished  to  purchase  a  house 
servant. 

"  Ah,  and  I  know  who  the  lady  was,"  sighed  John 
Brown. 

"  And  who  was  it  ?  "  said  James  Golden,  who  was 
telling  the  story  with  much  needless  circumlocution,  that 
out  of  regard  for  the  dear  reader  we  have  omitted. 

"  Why,  Margaret  Silverton!  " 

"  That  's  where  you  're  wrong,  John,  't  was  n't  Miss 
Margaret,  no  such  thing — you  could  n't  guess  in  a  month 
of  Sundays!  " 

"  Well,  who  was  it  ?  "  asked  John  in  a  disappointed 
tone. 

"  Why,  it  was  Missus  Brydges — Madam  Brydges  she 
called  herself — wife  of  old  Cap  Brydges!  " 


Jim  Slivers  Recounts  History  243 

"  Indeed!  " 

'  Yes,  her  name  used  to  be  Margaret  Silverton,  but  't 
was  n't  then!  "  And  Jim  laughed  a  loud  peal  of  merri 
ment  at  his  joke. 

John  Brown  did  not  laugh ;  he  groaned. 

"  Now  what  you  think  that  tall,  graceful,  angelic, 
lovely,  sorrowful  lady  she  do  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know:  what  did  she  do  ?" 
'  Just  look  me  over  as  if  she  never  saw  me ;  feel  o'  my 
arms ;  jab  me  with  her  fan ;  look  at  my  teeth ;  test  my 
eyesight,  an'  then  run  me  up  three  flights  of  stairs  with  a 
big  carpet  bag  balanced  on  my  head  to  see  if  my  wind 
was  good.  '  Look  pleasant,  you  dam  rascal,'  said  my 
master,  an"  he  up  and  gives  me  a  kick  behind  when  no 
one  was  lookin'.  I  was  that  near  bustin'  with  laugh  that 
I  'spect  I  was  lookin'  solemn,  for  all  the  while  I  knew 
the  Missus  was  just  makin'  b'lieve  and  that  she  was  goin' 
to  buy  me,  whether  or  no.  '  What  's  your  price,'  says 
she. 

'  Fifteen  hundred,'  says  he. 

I  '11  give  you  a  thousand,'  says  she. 
'  I  '11  split  the  difference,'  says  he. 
'  Very  well,  I  '11  take  him,'  says  she. 

"  So  when  she  had  paid  over  the  money,  she  ordered 
me  to  go  to  her  room  to  strap  her  trunks.  When  I  got 
there  she  just  locked  the  door,  and  up  and  bust  out 
cryin'  and  took  on  awful,  but  after  a  while  she  sobered 
down  an'  says,  '  Where  is  John  Brown  ? '  How  did  I 
know  where  John  Brown  was  ?  But  she  made  me  tell 
all  'bout  you — go  back  to  the  very  day  I  run  away  from 
Zanesville — when  you  met  me  at  the  Gulch — and  then  I 
had  to  follow  clear  through  to  Plainfield.  If  I  skipped 
anything,  that  woman  she  made  me  go  back  an'  tell  'bout 
it.  And  then  I  had  to  tell  all  'bout  Ole  Doctor  Melden 


244  Time  and  Chance 

and  what  you  done  when  you  got  her  letters,  an'  who 
read  'em,  an'  what  you  said,  an'  what  Ole  Doctor  Mel- 
den  he  said,  an'  what  you  both  said.  Then  I  told  her 
how  George  and  the  other  fellow  stole  me." 

'  And  who  sent  me  that  money  to  pay  for  you,'  she 
asked. 

'  John  Brown,'  says  I. 

And  did  he  earn  it  all,'  says  she. 
'  Yes,'  says  I.     You  see  I  did  n't  know,   but  only 
guessed. 

'  Well,'  says  she,  '  I  've  bought  you  now  an'  am 
goin'  to  make  you  free,  just  because  John  Brown  wanted 
it  so.'  " 

"  And  was  she  very  miserable  ? " 
'  What  for  should  she  be  ?  " 
'  With  that  man  who  was  not  her  mate!  " 

They  say  she  was  mis'ble  at  first,  but  soon  learned 
how  to  manage  him,  an'  then  he  was  mis'ble." 

John  did  not  know  that  in  that  most  unhappy  of  all 
unhappy  things,  an  unhappy  marriage,  the  grewsomeness 
of  the  condition  slinks  away  when  bravely  fronted;  just 
as  close  acquaintanceship  with  crime  removes  its  repul- 
siveness.  Abstract  complications  and  unseen  terrors  are 
the  only  things  that  really  agitate.  We  can  cope  with 
the  known. 

From  Natchez  they  took  Jim  to  New  Orleans  and 
there  he  found  his  wife,  Jennie. 

Once  back  at  Covington,  Jim  got  an  inkling  that  there 
was  strife  on  hand  as  to  the  advisability  of  making  him 
and  his  wife  free,  Mrs.  Brydges  insisting  on  manumission 
papers  being  made  out  immediately ;  but  Captain 
Brydges  had  his  way  this  time,  and  it  was  provided  that 
on  his  death  the  slaves  were  to  have  their  freedom. 

There    was    not    long   to   wait  —  in    a   year    Captain 


Jim  Slivers  Recounts  History  245 

Brydges's  death  set  them  free.  Margaret  moved  from 
Covington,  across  the  river  to  Cincinnati.  Jim  and  his 
wife  still  lived  with  Mrs.  Brydges  as  servants. 

Runaway  slaves  came  to  her  house  from  time  to  time, 
from  unknown  places,  brought  by  unknown  men.  The 
house  was  a  large,  old-fashioned  mansion  on  the  river 
bank,  and  often  fugitives  were  landed  from  row  boats. 
Sometimes  they  were  brought  in  trunks,  or  boxes,  or  bar 
rels,  and  after  being  kept  for  a  day  or  a  month,  as  the 
case  might  be,  they  were  aided  to  go  on  North. 

Jim  was  not  sure  about  the  number  that  Margaret  as 
sisted  to  escape  in  this  way — he  thought  it  might  amount 
to  twenty-five  or  more  a  year.  He  himself  had  made  two 
trips  between  Toledo  and  Cincinnati,  within  six  months, 
with  fugitives,  traveling  by  night.  If  the  moon  was 
bright  they  kept  to  the  fields,  but  if  it  was  dark  they 
went  by  the  road.  There  were  friends  along  the  way 
where  they  stopped,  and  if  no  "  stations"  were  near,  they 
simply  slept  out  of  doors  and  depended  for  food  on  ber 
ries  and  what  they  could  pick  up. 

Constables  and  all  officers  were  alert  to  capture  fugi 
tives,  for  it  meant  big  rewards :  so  the  "  conductor  "  must 
know  the  country  thoroughly,  otherwise  his  party  would 
fall  into  a  trap. 

The  free-and-easy,  matter-of-fact  way  that  Jim  dis 
cussed  the  question  surprised  Brown.  Jim  seemed  to 
have  no  conscience  in  the  matter  at  all— sentiment  did 
not  enter.  The  danger  and  excitement  were  much  more 
satisfactory  to  him  than  steady  work,  and  he  chuckled  to 
think  of  the  discomfiture  of  the  rich  owners  at  the  loss  of 
their  property.  His  pleasure  was  of  the  same  sort  that 
is  shown  by  the  mob  when  a  rich  man's  house  burns. 
We  like  to  see  the  successful  man  undone.  Yet  back  of 
this  John  could  see  a  steady,  determined  effort  on  the 


246  Time  and  Chance 

part    of    Margaret    Brydges;    she    was   working   with   a 
purpose. 

How  long  has  Mrs.  Brydges  been  helping  slaves  to 
run  away  ?  " 

"  Oh,  since  the  Cap  got  short  of  breath!  " 
'  For  ten  years  ?  " 

'  Yes,  she  was  through  this  very  town  herself  eight 
years  ago !  " 

Not  through  Hudson  ?  " 

'  Yes,  that  's  a  fack,  through  Hudson,"  chuckled  Jim. 
I  was  with  her.  We  had  a  peddler's  cart,  she  wore  a 
ragged  dress  an'  browned  up  like  a  gypsy.  Our  cart  had 
a  covered  box  with  a  lock  on  the  side,  a  false  bottom  an' 
a  trap-door  below,  where  our  two  runaways  rode.  We 
saw  you,  an'  the  Missus  she  tried  to  sell  you  a  tin  pail, 
an'  she  was  going  to  tell  you  who  she  was,  but  you  was 
so  busy  an'  you  had  so  many  babies  to  look  after,  an' 
your  wife  was  sick,  so  we  just  drove  right  along!  " 

John  was  astonished  at  this  revelation.      He  could  not 
help  thinking  that  the  woman  was  insane. 

And  does  Mrs.  Brydges  go  on  such  trips  now  ?  " 
"  Oh,    no,    she   just  stays  to  home   and  supplies  the 
money,  and  teaches  the  black  young  'uns  to  read  and 
write." 

"  And  does  she  use  all  of  her  time  and  money  in  that 
way  ?  " 

"  Of  course — she  has  ever  so  many  thousand  dollars 
every  year  from  the  steamboats  she  owns,  and  all  of  her 
money  goes  for  niggers,"  said  Jim  as  he  refilled  his  pipe. 
'  You  see,"  he  continued,  "  she  calls  it  a  holy  warfare, 
an'  she  thinks  that  if  slaves  now  and  then  give  their  mas 
ters  the  slip,  it  will  teach  the  owners  to  treat  them  well. 
For  if  a  slave  is  used  right  he  never  thinks  of  freedom. 
But  when  you  begin  to  use  the  blacksnake,  an'  take  away 


Jim  Slivers  Recounts  History  247 

his  wife  or  sells  his  children,  then  he  gets  full  o'  hell,  and 
wants  to  run  away.  Well,  the  Missus  has  friends  around 
here  and  there,  and  if  they  see  a  case  like  this  an'  they 
can  do  it  easy,  they  helps  the  nigger  to  scoot.  An'  the 
Missus  she  thinks  that  some  day,  oh,  in  a  hundred  years, 
all  the  slaves  will  get  educated  to  a  pint  where  they  will 
all  just  get  up  an'  declare  themselves  free,  an'  then  the 
white  folks  who  don't  like  slavery  will  stand  by  'em  an' 
that  will  be  all  there  '11  be  about  it — see  ?  " 

John  Brown  did  not  see,  but  the  thought  of  this 
earnest  woman  working  straight  along  on  one  idea  im 
pressed  him  most  strangely ;  and  that  she  should  now 
select  him  to  help  her  in  this  work  gratified  him. 

You  see,"  said  Jim,  examining  the  stem  of  his  pipe 
intently,  "  the  Missus  and  me  had  the  same  father — no 
use  denyin'  it,  an'  I  am  bound  to  help  her." 

"  And  God  is  the  Father  of  us  all,  and  so  I  'm  bound  to 
help  her,"  exclaimed  Brown  with  a  sudden  determination. 

"  I  say  now — haint  you  two  men  comin*  to  bieckfuss, 
sometime!  "  called  a  sharp  feminine  voice  from  the  back 
stoop.  '  Here  I  've  called  you  three  times!  " 

While  the  men  had  sat  there  on  the  log  the  shadows 
of  the  night  had  flown  away,  the  sun  had  come  up  from 
behind  the  hills  and  Mrs.  Brown  with  the  help  of  the 
children  had  prepared  breakfast. 

Still  the  master  of  the  house  sat  there  listening  to  the 
stranger's  tale.  The  two  men  now  arose  and  went  for 
ward  to  the  house.  They  washed  in  a  basin  on  the  stoop 
at  the  back  door  where  a  gourd  of  soft  soap  stood ;  then 
wiped  their  hands  on  the  roller  towel  and  took  seats  at 
the  table. 

Strangers  often  dined  at  Brown's,  so  the  new-comer  at 
tracted  little  attention  from  the  younger  generation.  Mr. 
Brown  asked  the  blessing. 


248  Time  and  Chance 

A  glimpse  of  a  woman's  form  was  seen  coming  around 
the  corner  of  the  house. 

It  's  the  Widow  Judson,"  said  Mrs.  Brown  to  her 
husband.  '  I  told  her  she  could  have  some  gooseberries 
if  she  would  pick  'em  herself.  Oh,  good-morning,  Liza 
Ann,  won't  you  have  some  breckfuss  ?  " 

No,  thankee,  I  've  just  et,  I  come  for  the  goose 
berries — 

She  did  not  finish  the  sentence.  She  caught  sight  of 
Jim  Slivers  as  he  sat  there  at  the  table. 

Her  face  turned  to  stone. 

She  raised  her  hands  above  her  head,  gave  a  wild 
scream,  and  exclaiming,  "  My  Jedediah!  my  Jedediah!  " 
fell  to  the  floor  in  a  dead  faint. 


CHAPTER    IV 

A   NIGHT-RIDE   TO   FREEDOM 

'  \/OU  better  not  risk  yourself  too  much,"  explained 
I  Jim  Slivers.  '  We  '11  light  out  'bout  'leven 
o'clock — the  sky  is  dark  so  we  can  keep  to  the  road  and 
make  fully  fifteen  miles!  " 

"  And  if  I  take  you  in  a  wagon  we  can  go  through  to 
night — it  's  only  thirty  miles !  " 

"  But  it  won't  do — someone  may  flash  a  lantern  on 
us." 

"  Let  'em  flash.  My  scheme  is  this — you  see  that 
wagon  box  there  is  full  two  feet  deep — now  we  '11  just 
lay  boards  across  the  top,  and  put  on  that  hay  rack  and 
load  up  with  half  a  ton  or  more  of  good  honest  hay. 
With  a  keyhole  saw  we  can  make  a  trap-door  in  the  bot 
tom  of  the  wagon  box  and  let  the  darkies  crawl  up  in  and 


A  Night-Ride  to  Freedom  249 

lay  down — with  some  hay  to  burrow  in  it  will  be  com 
fortable  enough.  Then  you  and  I  can  climb  up  on  top 
and  away  we  go." 

I  guess  you  be  a  Yankee,"  drawled  Jim  through  his 
nose. 

Well,  at  any  rate,  I  can  invent!  " 
"  Is  it  patented  ?  " 
"  Not  yet." 

'  Brown's  Patent  Adjustable  Nigger  Carriage!  I  will 
be  agent  for  it." 

At  nine  o'clock  when  the  children  were  all  in  bed, 
Brown  and  his  visitor  repaired  to  the  barn.  It  did  not 
take  long  to  scuttle  the  wagon  box  and  get  on  the  hay 
rack.  Then  the  hay  was  loaded,  the  colored  freight  duly 
packed  away,  two  strong  horses  hitched  on  and  the  drive 
was  begun. 

"  And  who  is  your  confidential  helper  at  Conneaut — 
you  did  not  tell  me." 

"  I  tell  nothin',"  answered  Jim  as  he  lay  on  his  back 
looking  up  at  the  stars. 

'  But  you  told  me  about  Margaret." 
I  would  n't  have,  only  she  said  I  must." 
But  where  am  I  to  go  in  Conneaut  ?  " 
You  mean  where  are  you  to  deliver  the  goods  ? " 
"  Yes." 

'I  '11  show  you  when  we  get  there — you  see  in  this 
business  we  do  no  gossipin',  an'  the  less  one  knows  about 
other  folks,  the  better.  You  might  be  called  on  in  court 
to  answer  questions  an'  it  's  mighty  convenient  to  know 
nothin'  at  such  times." 

I  see!  " 

"  That  's  why  the  Missus  an'  me  did  n't  stop  to  visit 
with  you  years  ago  when  we  came  through  with  our  tin 
ware.  '  He  's  happy,'  said  the  Missus,  '  he  's  married 


250  Time  and  Chance 

an'  happy — we  '11  not  break  in  on  his  peace — the  world 
can  only  be  reformed  by  restless,  mis'ble  people.' 

"  Did  Margaret  say  that  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

Well,  it  's  true,  but  why  should  she  have  sent  you 
to  me  now  ?  " 

'  I  'm  blamed  if  1  know.  Only  she  says  to  me  'bout 
a  year  ago — '  If  John  Brown  was  n't  rich  and  prosperous 
he  'd  be  a  great  man — great  as  Caesar  or  Demosthenes; 
but  when  a  man  is  happy  he  is  content,  and  if  he  's  con 
tent  he  lets  well-enough  alone.  He  's  like  a  fly  stuck  in 
'lasses — for  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  's  got  all  the 
'lasses  he  wants  an'  he  just  stays  there  till  he  dies.' 

"  And  that  's  a  rich  man,  is  it  ?  " 

"  For  sure — a  rich  man  is  a  blue-bottle  stuck  in  treacle ; 
treacle  is  good,  but  it  gets  away  with  a  heap  o'  flies." 

"  Then  for  blue-bottles  the  love  of  treacle  is  the  root 
of  all  evil  ?  " 

:<  I  'spect  it  is!  " 

"  But  you  said  the  work  of  reforming  the  world  is  done 
by  unhappy  men.  How  about  yourself  ?  " 

"  Me  ?  I  'in  not  reformin'  the  world — I  'm  working 
for  the  Widow  Brydges — twenty-five  dollars  a  month  an' 
expenses — I  do  just  what  I  'm  told,  that  's  all." 

But  you  seem  to  be  quite  a  philosopher — I  'd  never 
have  thought  it  of  you." 

"  A  man  who  travels  nights,  does  a  heap  o'  thinkin'." 

"  I  guess  that  is  so;  shepherds  were  the  first  philoso 
phers,  for  they  tended  their  flocks  by  night." 

'  Yes,  the  night  sort  o'  shuts  everything  out — leaves 
you  alone  with  God  !  " 

Why,  Jim,  you  never  used  to  talk  like  that." 
'  Did  n't  I  ?      Well,  I  'm  near  forty  years  old,  John 
Brown,  an'  so  are  you." 


A  Night-Ride  to  Freedom  251 

'  That  's  so,"  said  Brown,  shifting  his  position 
uneasily.  He  flicked  the  off  horse  with  the  whip,  and 
the  team  responded,  moving  forward  at  a  brisk  trot. 

At  about  one  o'clock  they  drew  into  a  wood  at  one 
side  of  the  road.  Brown  crawled  under  the  wagon, 

o 

pushed  up  the  trap-door,  and  the  "  goods  "  climbed  out 
to  stretch  their  tired  limbs.  Mrs.  Brown  had  put  up  a 
big  basket  of  lunch,  and  as  the  fugitives  ate  they  were 
inclined  to  be  jolly,  in  view  of  their  near  approach  of 
freedom. 

Jim  ordered  silence.  It  was  a  curious  thing  to  Brown 
to  see  a  touch  of  arrogance  in  Jim's  manner  towards  his 
subjects.  But  he  remembered  that  the  occupation  makes 
the  man,  and  the  overseer  is  perforce  a  bully.  Slavery 
breeds  tyrants.  John  talked  to  these  unfortunate  colored 
people  in  a  sympathetic  way  as  they  stood  there  in  the 
shadows,  eating  the  bread  and  meat  and  hard-boiled  eggs. 
They  answered  his  questions  in  a  manner  that  showed 
their  gratification  at  being  treated  as  equals.  But  Jim 
took  the  words  out  of  their  mouths  and  answered  for 
them,  explaining  in  a  very  cold-blooded,  matter-of-fact 
style,  that  "  this  one  is  the  wife  of  that  man,  and  this  of 
that  one  yonder,  and  t'other  of  him." 

As  he  spoke  he  touched  the  respective  persons  with  his 
cane. 

Further  than  this,  only  intelligent  niggers  were  helped 
to  run  away;  there  were  lazy  niggers,  and  brutal  nig- 
ners,  and  just  plain,  ornery  niggers,  and  these  could  all 
go  to  the  rice  swamps  and  be  blanked ;  but  the  Missus, 
she  never  lifted  a  finger  'cept  where  wife  was  to  be  taken 
from  husband,  or  pickaninny  from  its  mammy. 

Jim  had  gotten  so  acclimated  to  the  slave  mart,  that 
he  still  regarded  negroes  as  chatties  and  not  as  human 
beings;  and  John  could  not  help  but  note  how  his  man- 


252  Time  and  Chance 

ner  tallied  with  that  of  the  genuine  slave-trader,  for  he 
talked  before  these  people  as  if  they  were  both  sexless 
and  senseless. 

Again  the  load  of  hay  moved  on  towards  Lake  Erie. 
Injwo  hours  the  village  of  Conneaut  was  reached.  Dogs 
barked,  cats  sputtered,  cocks  crew,  but  the  silent  streets 
gave  no  other  sign  of  life. 

In  a  certain  cove  of  the  harbor  Jim  expected  to  see 
the  red  and  green  lights  of  a  little  schooner,  but  the  cove 
was  devoid  of  a  single  spar. 

Jim  was  disappointed.  He  turned  and  followed  up 
the  long  village  street,  motioning  that  John  should  fol 
low  with  the  team.  By  the  side  of  a  big,  box-like  church, 
that  stood  out  square  and  cheerless  in  its  coat  of  white 
paint,  Jim  stopped.  He  shoved  back  the  sliding  gate, 
followed  on  to  the  barn  that  stood  behind  the  house,  and 
opening  the  doors,  John  drove  his  team  with  the  load  of 
hay  inside.  It  was  now  nearly  daylight. 

Again  the  trap-door  was  opened,  out  slid  the  six  refu 
gees,  and  at  a  sign  from  their  master,  shinned  up  the 
ladder  into  the  haymow.  He  followed  them,  pulling  the 
ladder  up  after,  explaining  to  John  that  when  the  folks 
in  the  house  were  up  and  astir,  that  he  should  go  in  and 
he  would  be  properly  entertained — that  was  all  under 
stood.  But  as  for  himself,  being  known  in  Conneaut,  he 
had  to  lie  low. 

Brown  unhitched  his  horses,  put  them  in  stalls  and  fed 
them. 

Had  John  Brown  been  asked  at  this  time  of  his  life 
"  what  is  God's  best  gift  to  man  ?  "  he  would  probably 
have  replied,  "  a  horse."  The  love-lorn  adorer  of  some 
fair  maid  is  apt  to  reach  a  point  where  he  finds  balm  in 
solitude ;  but  the  horse-lover  knows  neither  surfeit  nor 
bitter  pang  of  affection  unrequited. 


A  Night-Ride  to  Freedom  253 

John  caressed  his  sleek  Morgans,  and  rubbed  their 
sweaty  coats  with  wisps  of  straw.  Ere  long  he  heard 
sounds  of  stirring  life  about  the  house. 

Looking  through  a  crack  in  the  side  of  the  barn  he  saw 
a  tall,  bearded  man  in  a  dressing  gown  at  the  wood-pile, 
splitting  kindling  to  make  the  kitchen  fire;  the  man's 
face  looked  strangely  familiar.  Soon  a  dumpy  little 
woman  came  out  on  the  back  steps  and  began  to  peel 
potatoes  from  a  pan  that  she  held  in  her  lap. 

This  well-to-do  merchant  and  land-owner  peeking  out 
of  the  crack  of  a  barn  at  this  man  and  his  wife  was  a 
funny  proceeding!  The  man  in  the  barn  was  not  given 
to  o'ermuch  mirth,  but  he  laughed  aloud,  and  then 
walked  out  into  the  daylight,  still  smiling. 

The  woman  with  the  potatoes  in  her  lap  gave  a  little 
scream,  and  the  tall  man  in  the  dressing  gown  stopped 
splitting  wood  and  looked  around  : 

'  I  swan,  if  it  is  n't  John  Brown,  or  else  his  ghost!  " 
And  I  swan,  if  it  is  n't  Walter  Warren  and  his  wife!  " 

The  little  woman  wiped  her  hands  on  her  apron  and 
gave  John  Brown  the  heartiest  kind  of  a  handshake  (but 
no  kiss)  and  Walter  Warren  shook  both  his  hands  and 
pounded  him  on  the  back  in  fond  delight. 

There  was  a  quick  explanation  in  an  undertone  and  re 
marks  of  "  Oh  !  ho!"  'I  see!"  '  Yes,  yes,"  and  then 
the  conversation  turned  to  matters  domestic.  Walter 
and  Rachel  had  six  children,  but  John's  score  was  far 
ahead. 

The  Rev.  Warren  had  held  pastorates  at  Cleveland  and 
Toledo.  One  year  before  he  had  moved  to  Conneaut. 
John  had  heard  of  his  successful  preaching  from  time  to 
time,  and  he  had  probably  heard  too  of  his  living  at  Con 
neaut,  but  a  busy  man  like  Brown  could  not  keep  track 
of  everyone  in  his  head,  and  the  fact  that  Rachel  and 


254  Time  and  Chance 

Walter  lived  in  "  New  Plymouth  "  had  entirely  slipped 
his  mind. 

There  was  much  "  visiting  "  and  many  questions  to  ask 
and  answer. 

The  young  Warrens  were  brought  out  one  by  one  and 
sent  through  their  paces  for  the  visitor's  benefit,  and 
John  did  not  fail  to  inwardly  note  and  outwardly  ac 
knowledge  that  they  were  a  remarkably  fine  brood.  The 
eldest  boy  was  sixteen.  He  was  then  teaching  his  first 
term  of  school  and  expected  some  day  to  be  a  preacher. 
The  second  child  was  a  girl  nearly  fifteen.  Her  name 
was  Miriam,  and  Brown  noticed  that  she  was  a  fine  lass 
and  a  full  two  inches  taller  than  her  mother. 

John's  eyes  followed  Rachel  as  she  moved  about  at  her 
work,  and  he  saw  that  the  matronly  little  woman  was  su 
premely  happy  and  all  bound  up  in  the  love  of  her  hus 
band  and  the  care  of  her  children.  John  noted,  too,  that 
husband  and  wife  consulted  on  all  manner  of  little  do 
mestic  arrangements  and  took  a  quiet  satisfaction  in  each 
other's  companionship;  and  he  could  not  but  compare 
his  life  with  theirs.  His  wife  did  her  work  and  he  did 
his.  He  could  go  or  stay — she  cared  little.  Her  confi 
dantes  were  among  the  neighbor  women,  and  as  for  his 
own  affairs,  he  kept  them  to  himself.  They  did  not 
quarrel,  for  John  Brown  was  not  a  quibbling,  quarrel 
some  man ;  he  ordered  certain  things  done  and  they  were 
done. 

As  the  day  wore  on  and  old  acquaintances  had  all  been 
well  discussed,  conversation  lagged  a  little.  Brown  had 
discovered  that  neither  Mr.  nor  Mrs.  Warren  was  vitally 
interested  in  his  specialty.  They  did  not  believe  in 
slavery,  but  they  were  first  led  to  harbor  fugitives  out  of 
pure  philanthropy ;  the  negroes  were  cold  and  a'  hung 
ered,  and  on  Jim  Slivers's  request,  they  had  taken  them 


A  Night-Ride  to  Freedom  255 

in  and  warmed  and  fed  them.  Jim  had  no  great  amount 
of  cerebral  gray  matter,  but  he  had  the  nose  of  a  detec 
tive,  and  in  some  way  had  made  the  discovery  that  the 
Rev.  Walter  Warren  was  a  son  of  Thomas  Warren  at 
Plainfield.  And  as  he  had  worked  in  Thomas  Warren's 
saw-mill,  he  had  a  sort  of  claim  on  Thomas  Warren's  son, 
and  he  presented  the  matter  in  a  way  that  caused  the 
Rev.  Warren  and  his  wife  to  accede  to  his  request  and 
care  for  his  runaways.  Besides  this  Mr.  James  Golden 
explained  that  they  were  not  really  fugitives,  but  only 
colored  people  going  to  Canada  for  their  health ;  and  to 
preserve  them  from  unjust  suspicions,  their  presence  must 
not  be  revealed. 

John  could  not  help  imagining  the  result  to  each,  had 
he  followed  her  mother's  wishes  and  married  Rachel.  In 
several  ways  she  was  superior  to  both  his  former  and 
present  wife,  yet  in  his  heart  he  congratulated  himself 
that  he  had  allowed  this  worthy  minister  to  wed  her. 
She  was  happy  and  content ;  with  him  she  could  not  have 
been,  for  he  could  not  have  entered  into  pattypan  emo 
tions,  and  his  aspirations  were  of  a  character  that  could 
neither  be  kept  from  her  nor  explained.  As  it  was  now, 
he  lived  within  himself,  and  no  one  was  hurt. 

That  night  there  were  lights  hanging  from  the  main 
mast  of  a  fishing  smack  down  in  the  cove. 

At  midnight,  seven  persons  were  rowed  out  to  the 
anchored  boat,  and  climbed  aboard. 

'  In  six  weeks  I  will  see  you — in  six  weeks!  "  Jim  had 
said  to  John  as  they  parted. 

Brown  went  back  up  the  hill  and  presented  the  Rev. 
Walter  Warren  with  half  a  ton  of  good,  honest  hay.  He 
backed  his  wagon  out  of  the  barn  and  started  on  his  night- 
ride  for  Hudson. 


256  Time  and  Chance 

CHAPTER   V 

TROUBLE   IN   THE    CHURCH 

THAT  a  lone  woman,  ill  much  of  the  time  and  weak, 
should  use  her  time  and  money  in  an  endeavor  to 
make  bondsmen  free,  seemed  stranger  and  stranger  the 
more  Brown  thought  about  it.  And  he  thought  about  it 
a  good  deal. 

There  were  nearly  three  million  slaves  in  the  United 
States,  and  this  woman,  at  the  most,  only  gave  freedom 
to  fifty  a  year — it  would  take  sixty  thousand  years  for 
her  to  accomplish  her  purpose.  It  was  like  baling  out 
the  ocean  with  a  teaspoon. 

And  why  did  she  do  it  ?  Only  for  this:  that  husband 
and  wife  should  not  be  separated,  nor  child  taken  from 
mother.  In  the  name  of  love — the  love  of  man  for 
woman,  of  parent  for  child.  She  would  hold  love  in 
violate.  And  therefore  she  sought  to  banish  traffic  in 
men  and  to  make  them  free. 

Brown  thought  about  it.  He  thought  about  it  at 
work,  thought  about  it  as  he  walked  and  rode,  dreamed 
of  it  at  night.  Soon  he  began  to  talk  about  the  subject 
of  slavery;  he  discussed  it  with  his  father,  with  his  neigh 
bors,  and  at  prayer-meetings  when  he  exhorted  the 
brethren,  he  spoke  of  slavery  as  "the  one  blot  on  our 
boasted  Christian  civilization."  That  we  should  affect 
to  believe  in  the  suffering,  unselfish  Christ  and  yet  buy 
and  sell  men  and  women  in  the  market  place,  was  the 
basest  hypocrisy. 

After  Brown  had  spoken  on  the  subject  in  prayer-meet 
ings  twice  in  succession,  the  pastor  thought  it  time  to  say 
something,  too,  which  he  did  about  as  follows : 

"  My  Christian  brethren  :  You  have  heard  what  our 


Trouble  in  the  Church  257 

dear  brother,  Deacon  Brown,  has  said  to-night  on  the 
subject  of  slavery.  It  is  a  great  theme,  just  as  emigra 
tion  and  commerce  are  great  themes,  but  why  it  should 
be  brought  in  and  discussed  at  a  meeting  set  apart  for 
prayer  and  praise,  I  cannot  understand.  We  are  here  to 
worship  God,  not  to  talk  about  property  in  Kentucky, 
and  if  black  people  are  God's  children  as  Deacon  Brown 
has  said  four  times  this  one  evening,  why  let  God  take 
care  of  'em  —  we  will  sing  from  page  two  sixty  two — 
Oh,  how  happy  are  we,  who  in  Jesus  agree,  And  expect 
his  return  from  above  ' — all  sing." 

Not  yet — you  can  sing  when  I  'm  done — 

The  hymn  was  started  with  intent  to  sing  Brown  down. 
Silence!  "  he  ordered  in  a  voice  that  flashed  out  like 
a  sword  leaping  from  its  scabbard. 

The  singing  abruptly  ceased.  Even  the  pastor's  voice 
failed  him.  There  was  a  silence  so  intense  that  it  could 
be  heard.  Brown  left  his  pew  and  walked  out  in  front 
of  the  dozen  expectant  people.  His  gray  eyes  gleamed 
and  the  stiff,  bristling  hair  stood  up  on  his  head. 

The  people  knew  that  Brown  had  temper  and  courage. 
They  were  sure  that  there  would  be  a  burst  of  invective  if 
not  something  worse.  The  preacher  cast  a  hurried  look 
around  and  calculated  the  height  of  the  open  window. 
But  the  storm-cloud  had  passed  and  when  after  an  instant 
Brown  spoke,  it  was  in  a  mild,  low  voice: 

'  My  friends,  I  'm  sorry  that  we  have  gotten  so  warm 
over  this  subject,  and  I  only  wish  now  to  say  that  I  stand 
by  all  I  have  said  on  this  matter  of  slavery.  The  black 
man  is  God's  free  child  and  should  be  free  to  worship 
God,  but  as  long  as  he  is  a  slave  he  is  not  allowed  to  do 
so.  I  wish  to  say  before  you  all  that  from  this  time  on 
I  propose  to  do  all  that  I  can  to  do  away  with  human 
slavery  in  my  country." 


258  Time  and  Chance 

Brown  sat  down.  There  was  another  silence;  no  one 
was  in  haste  to  sing. 

'  Is  the  brother  all  through  ?"  asked  the  pastor  in 
his  blandest,  meetin'-house  tone.  '  Because  if  he  's  not, 
we  want  to  hear  all  he  has  to  say  of  this  foreign  subject, 
now !  " 

There  was  another  pause  and  then  the  hymn  was  sung 
and  the  congregation  dismissed.  The  preacher  made 
great  show  of  shaking  hands  with  the  Deacon  and 
thanked  him  for  his  "  manly  apology." 

"  But  I  did  n't  apologize,"  said  Brown. 

Why,  you  said  you  were  sorry — did  n't  he,  Sister 
Jenkins  ?  " 

Sister  Jenkins  was  sure  he  did,  so  were  several  others. 
They  tried  to  laugh  it  off,  but  Brown  did  not  smile. 

Now,  Brother  Brown,"  said  the  minister,  affection 
ately  taking  him  by  the  button-hole,  "I  '11  show  you 
fifty  places  in  the  Bible  where  slavery  is  justified." 

"  And  I  '11  show  you  sixty  where  polygamy  is 
justified !  " 

'  There,  there!  you  know  those  ignorant  black  men 
could  not  take  care  of  themselves  even  if  they  were  free 
— the  ideal  condition  is  where  the  strong  care  for  the 
weak !  " 

But  what  if  the  strong  degrade  the  weak  ?  " 
Now,  dear  Brother,  just  give  me  your  hand — we  '11 
say  no  more.     I  '11  overlook  all  your  harsh  words  if  you 
will  agree  never  to  mention  this  subject  in  prayer-meet 
ing — come,  that  's  fair!  " 

The  preacher  held  out  his  hand.  Brown  refused  to 
take  it.  '  Your  terms  do  not  suit,"  said  Brown.  He 
turned  and  passed  out  of  the  church. 

The  people  standing  about  were  plainly  with  the  pas 
tor.  He  was  a  stout  man  of  fifty  or  more — a  man  of 


Trouble  in  the  Church  259 

some  education  and  considerable  tact.  And  while  he  did 
not  expect  to  convince  Brown  of  his  folly,  yet  he  had 
done  better;  he  had  won  the  sympathy  of  his  people. 
He  had  offered  to  shake  hands  with  Deacon  Brown ; 
Deacon  Brown  had  refused.  The  next  day  it  was  the 
talk  of  the  town  that  John  Brown  had  publicly  refused  to 
shake  hands  with  his  pastor. 

The  sermon  the  following  Sunday  was  a  powerful  one. 
The  text  was:  "  Let  every  man  build  over  against  his 
own  house."  It  was  not  a  written  sermon,  and  there 
were  no  notes.  The  pastor  was  full  of  his  theme,  and  his 
strong  point  was  that  if  we  attended  to  things  near  at 
hand,  we  did  well ;  but  to  trouble  ourselves  about  distant 
matters  or  meddle  in  questions  that  did  not  directly 
affect  us,  was  the  direst  folly. 

In  fact,  it  was  a  general  reminder  that  everyone 
should  attend  to  his  own  business.  To  care  for  one's 
wife  and  children  and  those  directly  connected  with  him, 
was  all  that  a  man  could  possibly  do,  and  to  go  galli- 
vantin'  all  over  creation  for  something  to  find  fault  with 
was  pesky  foolish.  Slavery,  for  instance,  was  wrong 
when  viewed  from  certain  standpoints.  So  it  was  wrong 
to  kill  a  cow,  but  we  had  to  kill  cattle  in  order  that  we 
might  live.  God  had  permitted  slavery  through  thou 
sands  of  years,  and  He  was  gradually  doing  away  with  it ; 
and  if  we  would  only  give  God  time,  He  would  smooth 
out  all  the  crooked  places.  "  And  finally,  brethren,  let 
each  man  build  over  against  his  own  house." 

It  was  a  powerful  sermon.  Much  of  it  was  delivered 
straight  at  Deacon  Brown's  head,  and  there  was  consider 
able  craning  of  necks  to  see  how  the  Deacon  took  his 
medicine  ;  but  he  never  flinched. 

But  the  sermon  did  not  silence  John  Brown.  At  the 
grocery,  the  post-office,  or  on  the  street  corners  he  would 


260  Time  and  Chance 

discuss  the  question  of  slavery  with  anyone  who  cared 
to  talk  about  it.  In  all  of  the  Southern,  and  several  of 
the  Northern  States,  it  was  a  crime  to  teach  a  negro  to 
read,  and  a  bill  was  before  the  Ohio  legislature  making  it 
a  penal  offense  "  to  hire,  harbor,  feed  or  encourage  in 
anyway  any  negro  or  any  person  in  whose  veins  there  is 
supposed  to  be  negro  blood,  until  such  negro  had 
proven  before  the  nearest  magistrate  that  he  or  she  is  not 
a  fugitive." 

Brown  protested  strongly  against  this  law,  which  he 
claimed  was  against  the  American  maxim,  that  a  man 
must  be  considered  innocent  until  he  is  proven  guilty. 
But  the  preacher  retorted  that  "  a  negro  was  not  a  man, 
but  a  nigger,"  and  so  the  argument  moved  in  a  circle. 

Had  Brown  been  willing  to  let  the  matter  drop,  his 
neighbors  would  have  taken  him  back  into  full  fellowship 
and  said  no  more.  But  he  was  one  of  that  kind  of  men 
who,  when  they  harbor  a  thought,  are  taken  captive  by 
it.  An  idea  possessed  him. 

Seven  weeks  had  come  and  gone  since  he  bade  good 
bye  to  Jim  Slivers,  and  now  Jim  had  come  again.  Not 
by  night  this  time,  but  in  daytime  and  alone. 

Jim  carried  a  stout  stick  over  his  shoulder  and  a  hand 
kerchief  knotted  up,  in  way  of  baggage.  He  was  dusty 
and  begrimed,  having  evidently  come  on  a  long  jour 
ney;  yet  there  was  a  half  grin  lurking  around  his  mouth 
as  he  walked  into  the  tannery  yard  where  Brown  was 
alone. 

"  An'  how  's  my  wife  ?  "  asked  Jim  the  first  thing. 

"  Who  ?" 

"  My  darling — fifty  years  old  last  May  and  my  darling 
still !  " 

"  Oh,  you  mean  that  woman  who  took  you  for  the 
ghost  of  her  husband  ?  " 


Trouble  in  the  Church  261 

"  Of  course  ;  go  tell  her  I  Ve  come  for  her  at  last — at 
last!" 

"  Don't  be  foolish,  Jim.  What  's  the  news — have  you 
seen  Margaret  ?  " 

"  Call  her  the  Madam,  please." 
'  Well,  then,  have  you  seen  the  Madam  ?  " 

"  I  reckon;  else  how  'd  I  fetch  this  letter  to  you  from 
her  ?" 

Jim  reached  into  the  inside  of  his  vest  and  brought  out 
a  letter,  folded,  sealed,  and  directed  to  "  John  Smith." 

"Is  it  for  me  ?"  asked  Brown  as  he  looked  at  the 
superscription. 

11  I  'spect,  leastwise  't  aint  for  me." 

Brown  broke  the  seal  and  read : 

DEAR  JOHN  SMITH: 

The  bearer  has  told  me  of  your  great  kindness  and  the  manly 
assistance  you  rendered  in  getting  his  freight  through.  Your 
helping  me,  thus  endorsing  my  work,  has  given  me  renewed 
courage  and  zeal. 

The  present  case  is  a  very  pathetic  one;  Jim  will  tell  you 
of  it. 

May  Heaven  bless  you. 

Sincerely  your  friend, 

M. 

There  was  no  date,  no  signature  and  his  own  name  was 
replaced  by  another,  but  the  very  omissions  were  pre 
cious  to  Brown ;  it  left  something  to  the  imagination- 
there  was  an  understanding. 

To  love  and  to  have  an  understanding !  no  happier  fate 
can  come  to  a  man  than  this. 

Still,  Brown  had  no  idea  that  he  loved  this  woman- 
far  from  it-.  She  was  simply  an  old  acquaintance  and  he 
was  interested  in  her — that  's  all.  Besides  that,  he  was  a 


262  Time  and  Chance 

married  man  and  had  no  right  to  love  any  woman  but  his 
wife. 

He  read  the  letter  twice,  standing  there  in  the  tannery 
yard.  Jim  picked  up  a  stick  and  began  whittling  on  it 
carelessly  as  if  time  were  no  object. 

"  She  says  '  the  present  case  is  a  very  pathetic  one,' — 
what  does  she  mean — your  freight  ?  " 

"  She   says  it  's  what  ?  " 

"  Pathetic." 

"  What  's  that  ?" 

"  Sorrowful." 

"  Lordy,  she  's  right.  I  Ve  walked  eighteen  mile  since 
sun-up  to  tell  you  'bout  it." 

"  Well,  go  on !  " 

' '  One  buck  nigger,  one  wench,  and  three  pickaninnies ! " 
'  You  mean  a  man,  his  wife  and  their  three  children  ? " 

"  Yes." 
Well,  where  are  they  ?     Speak  up  quick !  " 

'  Eighteen  miles  back,  I  told  you — two  pickaninnies 
sick  and  the  wench  she  's  plum  tuckered  out  and  wants 
to  die — all  were  sold  an'  to  be  separated — Missus  up  and 
bribes  Sheriff  an'  he  lets  'em  run  away  to  river — I  meets 
'em  in  a  skiff,  gets  'em  'cross — been  three  weeks  on  way 
— all  hands  tuckered  and  camped  in  woods — babies  sick 
— that  's  all  there  is  'bout  it." 

Jim  spat  out  this  explanation  all  at  one  mouthful.  He 
stopped  as  suddenly  as  he  had  begun,  and  went  on  with 
his  whittling. 

"  And  you  have  walked  on  ahead  and  now  want  me  to 
go  back  with  you  ?  " 
Well,  I  reckon  !  " 
How  shall  we  go?  " 
'  The  load  of  hay  is  all  right." 

It  was  near  noon  and  the  children  were  playing  around 


Nothing  can  be  Concealed  Long  263 

the  house,  To  load  up  hay  and  cart  it  away  would  ex 
cite  their  curiosity,  for  hay  was  hauled  to  the  barn,  not 
away  from  it.  Then  the  neighbors  might  ask  questions, 
too,  for  Brown's  teaming  was  usually  done  by  hired  men, 
so  all  things  considered,  it  was  resolved  best  to  wait 
until  night. 

This  was  accordingly  done.  After  the  children  were 
all  abed,  Brown  and  Jim  adjusted  the  hay  rack  on  the 
wagon  bed,  laying  all  the  boards  on  top  so  there  would 
be  "  plenty  of  space  in  the  hold  for  storage,"  as  Jim  ex 
pressed  it.  Mrs.  Brown  held  the  lantern  and  the  two 
men  piled  on  a  goodly  load  and  bound  it  down  with  the 
boom  pole.  They  hitched  on  a  stout  team  of  young 
horses,  and  drove  away,  promising  to  return  by  daylight. 
Mrs.  Brown  slept  with  one  eye  open  and  listened  with 
both  ears  for  the  rattle  of  the  returning  wagon,  but  she 
did  not  hear  it. 

Daylight  came  and  the  children  were  up  earlier  than 
usual.  Mrs.  Brown  sent  them  back  to  bed,  but  it  was  no 
use,  they  were  thoroughly  wide  awake.  They  had  break 
fast  without  the  master  of  the  house  and  the  good  mother 
had  to  deal  in  white  lies  to  stop  the  questionings — chil 
dren  are  so  very  curious. 

It  was  near  nine  o'clock  before  a  boy  came  running  up 
the  hill,  to  tell  Mrs.  Brown  that  her  husband  was  down 
by  the  tannery  badly  hurt. 


CHAPTER    VI 

NOTHING  CAN  BE  CONCEALED  LONG 

THE  night  was  dark,  but  Brown  knew  his  road  and 
sent  the  horses  along  at  a  good  stiff  pace. 
Ten  miles  were  turned  off — fifteen :  it  was  so  dark  that 
Jim  could  not  see  the  stones  he  had  placed  in  the  road 


264  Time  and  Chance 

to  mark  the  spot  where  they  should  sheer  off  into  the 
forest.  In  an  hour  it  became  evident  that  they  had  missed 
the  place  ;  so  they  cramped,  backed  up,  turned  around 
and  headed  back.  Jim  walked  slowly  ahead,  peering 
with  his  eyes  and  feeling  with  his  feet  for  the  little  pyra 
mid  of  stones.  An  hour  went  by  in  anxious  search  when 
a  joyous  little  whistle  from  Jim  announced  that  the 
lost  was  found. 

The  horses  were  tied  securely  to  a  clump  of  stout  sap 
lings  and  the  two  men  moved  off  into  the  blackness  of 
the  wood.  A  peculiar  chucking  call  from  Jim  was  soon 
answered  by  a  similar  sound,  and  under  the  drooping 
boughs  of  a  protecting  pine  were  the  refugees. 

Brown  assured  the  unseen  fugitives  that  they  were 
among  friends  as  he  put  his  hands  down  on  two  woolly 
heads.  He  lifted  a  baby  form  in  each  strong  arm  and 
started  back  for  the  wagon,  the  others  following. 

The  fevered  faces  of  the  children  pillowed  themselves 
on  the  man's  neck,  and  he  knew  that  hunger,  sleepless 
ness  and  damp  had  done  their  work,  and  if  the  children 
could  not  be  given  good  care  and  that  quickly,  their 
earthly  troubles  would  soon  be  over. 

Reaching  the  load  of  hay  the  trap-door  in  the  bottom 
of  the  wagon  was  pushed  up  and  the  black  man  and  his 
wife  crawled  in,  and  the  three  children  were  passed  in 
after.  The  horses  were  unhitched  and  the  northward 
drive  begun. 

Brown  restrained  the  impatient  steeds,  as  the  road  in 
places  was  rough  and  in  the  darkness  the  ruts  could  not 
be  avoided,  for  he  was  mindful  that  the  wagon  had  no 
springs,  and  the  thought  of  the  aching  heads  below  made 
him  lessen  each  possible  jolt  and  jar. 

Jim  lay  on  his  back,  looking  up  at  the  sky,  where  the 
stars  now  began  to  twinkle,  and  chanted  a  wild,  weird 


Nothing  can  be  Concealed  Long          265 

song  that  had  been  passed  down  through  the  generations 
from  some  Congo  jungle.  Melody  got  the  better  of  his 
spirit  and  the  hum  nearly  grew  into  song,  when  John 
ordered  silence.  Then  there  was  only  the  patter  of 
unshod  hoofs  on  the  hard  road  and  the  monotonous 
rumble  of  the  heavy  wagon. 

Daylight  was  beginning  to  gleam  in  the  east,  with 
Hudson  still  ten  miles  away. 

It  was  very  evident  that  to  push  straight  on  would 
reveal  to  the  curious  villagers  that  the  drive  had  been  a 
long  one. 

Two  hours  earlier  would  have  placed  the  "  goods" 
safely  in  the  cave  while  all  Hudson  was  abed ;  as  it  was 
now,  all  Hudson  would  be  astir. 

What  was  to  be  done  ? 

To  wait  until  friendly  night  came  again  meant  possible 
death  to  the  sick  children,  for  the  food  they  had  was  in 
sufficient  and  not  of  the  right  kind.  To  drive  straight 
ahead  now  meant  a  buzz  of  idle  talk  that  might  not  be 
so  idle  after  all;  to  wait  an  hour,  rub  the  horses  dry  and 
go  in  slowly,  would  attract  little  attention,  as  it  would  be 
thought  that  Brown  was  merely  drawing  hay  from  his 
farm.  Then  a  chance  could  be  taken  when  no  one  was 
around  to  transfer  the  fugitives  from  the  wagon  to  the 
cave. 

This  latter  plan  seemed  the  best,  so  they  adopted  it. 

It  was  near  nine  o'clock  when  John  Brown's  gray  team 
was  seen  coming  down  the  hill  into  Hudson.  There  was 
a  load  of  hay  on  the  wagon,  and,  of  course,  the  driver 
could  not  apply  his  brake.  Yet  the  team  was  strong  and 
able  to  hold  the  load  by  the  neck-yoke,  anyway. 

But  suddenly  an  accident  occurred.  It  was  the  worst 
kind  of  an  accident  than  can  possibly  befall  a  man  driv 
ing  two  nervous  horses.  If  a  wheel  comes  off,  the  axle 


266  Time  and  Chance 

only  drops  and  drags;  should  a  rein  break,  you  simply 
pull  on  one  line  until  your  horses  are  in  the  ditch  or 
against  the  fence ;  should  the  breeching  give  way,  you 
keep  your  running  steeds  in  the  middle  of  the  road  and 
trust  to  luck;  if  your  horses  kick,  lean  back  so  you  will 
not  get  hit  and  let  them  kick;  if  they  shy  and  lunge  to 
one  side,  they  can  only  tip  you  over. 

But  if  you  are  driving  a  spirited  team  hitched  to  a 
wagon,  down  a  steep  hill,  and  you  have  no  brake,  and 
suddenly  the  neck-yoke  gives  way,  and  the  wagon  tongue 
drops  to  the  ground,  you  had  better  take  a  last  flashing 
look  at  this  beautiful  world  and  commend  your  soul  to 
God. 

For  quicker  than  the  flash  of  thought,  the  horses  will 
lunge  forward  and  no  man  bom  of  woman  can  hold  them. 
At  such  an  instant  the  frantic  strength  of  the  mad  brutes 
is  in  league  with  the  law  of  gravitation,  and  Death 
crouches  near  and  laughs. 

When  that  wagon  tongue  dropped  and  began  plow 
ing  a  furrow  in  the  dust,  Brown  made  one  heroic  effort 
to  pull  the  horses  into  the  ditch,  but  the  wagon  was  on 
their  heels,  and  they  shot  forward  straight  for  the  en 
trance  to  the  bridge.  They  were  going  like  a  comet, 
when  the  point  of  the  tongue  struck  a  stone,  and  the 
tongue,  acting  as  a  fulcum,  lifted  the  wagon  straight  ten 
feet  into  the  air.  The  load  of  hay,  boomed  fast  to  the 
rack,  shot  forward,  fell  to  one  side  and  turned  bottom 
side  up  as  it  slipped  over  the  embankment.  The  horses, 
with  the  wheels  of  the  wagon,  dashed  through  the  bridge 
like  the  wind,  and  up  the  village  street.  Half  the  town 
rushed  down  to  the  bridge  where  lay  the  toppled  load  of 
hay.  But  where  was  the  driver  ?  A  score  of  people 
looked  on  with  staring  eyes,  all  talking  at  once.  A 
peculiar  voice  was  heard !  where  did  it  come  from  ? 


Disgrace  Faced  by  Frankness  267 

Someone  looked  up  at  the  top  of  the  old  wood  covered 
bridge.  There  on  the  roof  of  the  bridge,  resting  as  if  it 
had  been  placed  there  by  giant  hands,  was  a  wagon  box. 
Standing  up  in  this  box  were  a  very  black  negro,  a  negro 
woman,  and  clinging  to  them,  too  frightened  to  cry,  three 
little  black  children. 

'  Was  you  driving  this  team  ?  "  called  a  voice  from  the 
crowd. 

No,"  answered  the  black  man. 
Then  who  was  ?  " 
Two  white  men." 
Where  are  they  ?  " 
'  Under  that  pile  of  hay!  " 


CHAPTER   VII 

DISGRACE   FACED    BY    FRANKNESS 

WHEN  John  Brown  and  Jim  Slivers  were  dug  out 
from  under  that  pile  of  hay — good,  honest  hay — 
they  were  insensible.  But  they  did  not  die;  destiny  had 
reserved  them  for  a  different  fate,  so  a  few  dashes  of  cold 
water  brought  them  to.  Mrs.  Brown  arrived  on  the 
scene  very  much  frightened,  but  quite  relieved  to  find 
that  she  was  not  a  widow.  Her  husband  had  just  opened 
his  eyes  and  requested  that  no  more  water  be  flung  at 
him. 

A  ladder  had  been  brought  from  the  saw-mill  and  the 
family  of  unhappy  blacks  were  assisted  from  their  ele 
vated  position.  But  with  that  cruel  sense  of  humor  that 
rustics  often  possess,  the  wagon  bed  was  left  on  its  perch 
as  a  monument  to  the  infamy  of  its  owner. 

Mrs.  Brown  wept,  and  seeing  the  five  trembling  colored 
mortals,  fell  a-scolding. 


268  Time  and  Chance 

'  You  're  a  fool,  John  Brown,  I  told  you  not  to  do  it !" 
And  seeing  the  gaping  crowd  around,  she  addressed  her 
remarks  to  them  and  absolved  herself  from  all  respon 
sibility  in  the  matter.  There  was  a  slight  scalp  wound 
on  Brown's  head  and  as  he  sat  up  the  red  drops  slowly 
trickled  down  his  face.  The  sight  of  blood  brought 
back  the  wifely  sympathy  and  Mrs.  Brown  tied  up  the 
shaggy  head  with  a  handkerchief. 

Jim  still  smoked.  He  expected  one  of  two  things 
would  surely  occur;  they  would  all  be  arrested  or  they 
would  have  to  fight.  He  was  ready  to  accept  whichever 
horn  of  the  dilemma  came,  but  neither  was  in  store. 

Brown  was  still  slightly  dazed.  He  put  his  hand  to 
his  head  in  apparent  helplessness  and  tried  to  stand  on 
his  feet.  The  crowd  were  inclined  to  laugh ;  Brown  had 
been  caught  in  the  very  act  of  nigger  stealing — ha,  ha, 
ha! 

Suddenly  a  white-haired  woman  appeared  on  the 
scene;  a  strong  woman  whose  only  mark  of  age  was  her 
white  hair.  She  had  come  across  the  bridge  and  having 
pushed  her  way  through  the  crowd,  gave  a  quick  glance 
about  and  seemed  to  comprehend  the  situation.  She 
saw  the  trembling  negroes,  she  saw  that  Brown  was  in 
jured,  she  guessed  that  Brown  was  the  cause  of  the 
negroes  being  there  and  that  the  people  standing  about 
considered  the  situation  funny,  and  moreover  she  saw 
that  they  had  no  intention  of  giving  succor  or  aid  to 
these  refugees. 

'  The  jail  's  the  place  for  them !  "  shouted  a  blatant 
voice. 

Ruth  Crosby  had  no  very  fixed  ideas  on  the  subject  of 
human  rights — she  was  too  busy  doing  good  to  formulate 
a  creed — but  she  had  a  great,  generous,  motherly  heart. 

She  took  the  sick  baby  out  of  the  colored  woman's 


Disgrace  Faced  by  Frankness  269 

arms,   and  whispered  to  her  black  sister  that  no  harm 
should  come  to  her  or  the  babes. 

"  Come,"  said  Ruth,  "  we  will  go!  " 

Brown  got  his  strength  back,  and  going  over  took  the 
second  child. 

The  crowd,  now  silent,  parted  and  Ruth  led  the  way 
through  the  bridge,  carrying  the  black  baby.  Brown 
followed  with  baby  Number  Two,  then  came  Mrs.  Brown 
leading  Number  Three,  the  negro  man  and  his  wife 
next,  while  in  the  rear  came  Jim  Slivers  calmly  smoking; 
behind  all  trooped  half  a  hundred  villagers  of  both  sexes, 
all  ages,  and  all  sorts  and  conditions. 

To  my  house,  not  yours!  "  said  John  to  Ruth.  So 
Ruth  turned  to  the  left  and  the  procession  passed  up  the 
little  slope  to  the  residence  of  John  Brown,  on  the  out 
skirts  of  the  town.  The  villagers  fell  off  by  twos  or 
threes  and  went  home  to  talk  it  over,  so  when  Brown's 
front  gate  was  reached,  Jim  Slivers  was  the  tail  of  the 
kite. 

The  fugitives  were  not  put  in  the  cave  this  time ;  they 
were  given  the  best  rooms  the  house  afforded.  Ruth's 
sole  occupation  for  many  years  had  been  nursing  the 
sick;  she  was  an  expert.  She  remained  and  took  sole 
charge  of  the  children,  and  they  were  ill — no  mistake. 

Brown  loaded  a  long,  squirrel  rifle  that  hung  over  the 
kitchen  door,  and  set  it  in  the  corner.  Then  he  busied 
himself  at  the  wood-pile,  fully  determined  that  he  would 
allow  no  neighbors,  officer,  sheriff  or  whatnot  to  enter 
the  yard. 

It  's  a  serious  thing  to  arrest  a  man  in  a  rural  district ; 
and  especially  so  in  a  pioneer  country.  If  a  citizen  has 
property,  a  fair  name,  and  chief  of  all  the  reputation  of 
being  able  to  fight,  he  might  commit  almost  any  crime, 
even  to  murder,  and  still  go  free. 


270  Time  and  Chance 

No  constable  nor  sheriff  came  to  Brown's.  They  knew 
better.  The  majesty  of  the  law  can  wait  when  there  is  a 
strong  chance  of  its  agent  being  perforated  with  lead. 
Brown  was  not  a  quarrelsome  man,  but  he  had  a  moral 
dignity  which,  added  to  his  physical  strength,  made  him 
respected.  Only  a  year  before  he  had  trounced  the 
town  bully  with  a  hickory  gad,  and  on  several  occasions 
he  had  gone  alone  to  objectionable  persons  and  told  them 
to  leave  town,  and  they  went. 

When  night  came  the  baby  was  no  better.  Through 
stress  of  hardship  and  excitement,  the  mother's  milk  had 
failed  and  the  little  sufferer  had  actually  been  starved. 
The  second  child  was  about  two  years  old  and  the  baby 
only  six  months;  they  were  too  ill  to  go  on — what  was 
to  be  done  ? 

"  Leave  them  here,"  said  Ruth.  '  The  father, 
mother,  and  the  four-year-old  girl  can  go  on  ahead,  and 
when  the  babies  get  strong  we  will  send  them  forward." 

So  that  night  Jim  Slivers  took  the  three  and  started 
for  Conneaut  on  foot.  It  was  the  best  thing  to  do — get 
them  to  a  place  of  safety  at  once.  And  as  for  the  babies, 
Brown  promised  that  they  would  be  safely  handed  over 
to  their  parents  as  soon  as  they  were  well  and  strong. 

Hudson  now  fairly  bubbled  with  excitement.  How 
long  had  Deacon  Brown  been  in  this  business  ?  Some 
said  for  ten  years  and  they  even  gave  the  exact  number 
of  thousand  slaves  he  had  stolen.  He  had  grown  rich  at 
it,  they  were  sure.  It  was  hinted  that  when  a  goodly  lot 
of  negroes  were  gotten  together  in  Canada,  they  were 
pounced  upon  and  sent  by  the  ship-load  around  the  St. 
Lawrence  River  to  the  Atlantic  and  then  down  to  Charles 
ton,  S.  C,  where  they  were  sold  at  auction. 

Nobody  mentioned  these  rumors  to  Brown — they 
knew  better.  People  avoided  him  on  the  street ;  if  he 


Disgrace  Faced  by  Frankness  271 

approached  a  group,  they  would  instantly  disperse;  when' 
he  entered  the  post-office,  all  conversation  would  sud 
denly  cease;  some  treated  him  with  awkward  politeness, 
and  were  evidently  afraid  of  him,  but  when  his  back  was 
turned,  they  winked  at  their  neighbors,  and  smiled. 

Even  John  Brown's  father  shook  his  head  and  said 
that  the  laws  of  the  land  should  be  respected.  In  the 
whole  village  he  had  but  one  staunch  supporter,  and 
that  was  Ruth  Crosby ;  and  it  must  be  owned  that  it  was 
largely  accident  that  landed  her  on  his  side  and  not  on 
the  other. 

Women  are  more  heroic  than  men ;  in  surgical  opera 
tions  their  chances  of  recovery  are  better;  in  spite  of  the 
pains  of  childbirth  they  live  longer  than  men  ;  when  worst 
comes  to  worst  they  are  braver.  Just  as  a  tigress  can 
whip  a  lion,  or  the  she-wolf  with  cubs  is  more  than  a 
match  for  a  bear,  so  does  a  true  woman  rise  to  the  level 
of  events.  In  times  of  disgrace  the  woman  clings  to  the 
man,  where,  too  often,  if  the  man  can  escape  he  does  so, 
and  allows  his  mate  to  face  the  pack  alone. 

Ruth  Crosby  had  been  touched  by  the  sight  of  those 
suffering  blacks ;  she  saw  that  the  crowd  was  against 
them  and  straightway  her  indignation  joined  hands  with 
her  mother-love,  and  casting  a  look  of  defiance  on  the 
mob,  she  stood  sponsor  for  the  friendless.  It  was  a  very 
womanly  act  on  the  part  of  Ruth,  as  those  who  have 
seen  women  in  war-time  know  full  well. 

And  once  having  committed  herself  to  the  side  of  the 
slave,  and  espoused  John  Brown's  cause,  the  sense  of 
loyalty  in  her  heart,  and  the  "  stubbornness  "  in  her 
nature  would  not  allow  her  to  retreat.  When  petty  per 
secution  followed,  it  only  cemented  the  bond,  for  it  is 
injustice  that  makes  martyrs.  An  attempt  to  make  a 
woman  give  up  either  a  man  or  a  sentiment  only  makes 


272  Time  and  Chance 

her  cling  the  closer.  Thus  do  time  and  chance  push  us 
like  pawns  upon  this  chess-board  of  life. 

People  looked  askance  at  the  Widow  Crosby  as  she 
walked  on  the  street,  and  the  neighbor  women  ceased  to 
run  in  and  chat.  She  was  left  quite  alone — the  hint  having 
been  given  out  that  "  she  was  not  all  that  she  should  be." 

The  two  colored  babies  got  well  and  strong ;  the  pro 
duct  of  John  Brown's  dairy  seemed  to  agree  with  them. 
Children  know  no  caste;  they  never  draw  the  color  line, 
and  the  Brown  children  thought  the  negro  babies  very 
charming  additions  to  the  family.  And  one  Sunday 
when  the  Browns  filed  into  church  to  fill  three  pews,  there 
was  a  shiny  black  youngster,  well  dressed  and  clean, 
among  the  little  flock. 

Many  in  the  audience  tittered,  one  man  guffawed 
aloud,  several  snorted  with  indignation  and  a  full  half 
dozen  tramped  out.  Altogether,  though,  the  sight  of  the 
colored  baby  was  rather  amusing  to  the  audience  than 
otherwise ;  just  as  a  cat  on  the  stage  makes  a  laugh,  or  a 
clog  sniffing  up  the  aisle  takes  all  attention  away  from 
the  preacher.  The  minister  noticing  the  commotion, 
arose  from  behind  his  high  pulpit,  and,  adjusting  his 
brass-rimmed  spectacles,  looked  rebukingly  around  for 
the  cause  of  the  trouble.  At  last  his  glance  fell  on  the 
black  baby,  and  the  storm-cloud  in  his  serious  visage 
grew  denser. 

He  tried  to  catch  Deacon  Brown's  eye;  at  last  he 
thought  he  had,  and  he  pantomimed  that  Brown  should 
remove  the  black  baby.  But  Brown  did  not  take  the 
hint.  Then  the  preacher,  realizing  that  he  could  not 
compete  as  an  attraction  against  the  wee  darling,  cleared 
his  throat  and  in  a  solemn  voice  said  :  "  Brother  Brown, 
oblige  me  by  removing  that  object  which  you  have 
wrongfully  brought  into  this  sacred  place." 


Disgrace  Faced  by  Frankness  273 

But  Brother  Brown  was  both  blind  and  deaf. 

The  hymn  was  announced,  the  Scripture  read,  the  long 
prayer  gone  through  with,  and  the  sermon  begun.  And 
all  during  the  sermon  the  black  baby  slept  with  its  head 
in  John  Brown's  lap. 

It  was  certainly  a  very  presumptuous  thing  for  Brown 
to  do — take  a  negro  to  meetin'.  For  there  was  a 
question  whether  negroes  had  souls;  indeed  several 
books  had  been  written,  proving  that  they  had  not. 

Perhaps  when  Brown  got  home  that  day  after  church 
he  congratulated  himself  that  he  had  won  in  the  little 
game  of  bluff,  but  his  satisfaction  was  slightly  cooled  the 
next  day  when  he  received  an  official  notice  to  present 
himself  in  ten  days  and  show  cause  why  he  should  not 
be  expelled  from  church. 

Ruth  Crosby  was  also  presented  with  a  similar  notice. 

The  day  of  the  examination  came,  and  the  defendants 
were  both  present. 

The  indictment  recited  how  Ruth  Crosby  and  John 
Brown  had  harbored  runaway  slaves,  against  the  peace 
and  good  order  of  the  community,  and  against  the  laws 
of  God  and  the  State.  Further  than  this,  they  had 
taught  negroes  to  read. 

This  last  accusation  was  quite  gratuitous,  but  the  in 
tent  was  to  make  the  charge  as  damning  as  possible. 

The  minister  had  the  clerk  read  the  charges,  and  then 
the  senior  Deacon  of  the  church  got  up  and  proposed 
that  if  the  defendants  would  simply  plead  guilty  to  the 
charges  and  ask  the  forgiveness  of  the  brethren  as 
sembled,  promising  not  to  repeat  the  offense,  the  meet 
ing  could  then  be  turned  into  one  of  prayer  and  praise. 
The  good  old  man  expressed  his  love  for  the  Widow 
Crosby  and  John  Brown  and  spoke  of  his  high  regard  for 
their  characters ;  he  recited  how  even  David  had  fallen, 


18 


274  Time  and  Chance 

hut  the  Lord  had  reinstated  him  in  favor — why  should  they 
not  do  the  same  by  these  erring  ones  ? 

The  preacher  endorsed  this  conciliatory  appeal,  he 
showed  how  it  contained  the  true  Christian  spirit — a 
slowness  to  condemn  and  a  readiness  to  forgive.  He 
sat  down  and  there  was  a  breathless  silence  when  Brown 
arose  to  reply. 

He  simply  plead  guilty  to  the  charges  as  made :  he  had 
done  nothing  but  what  he  thought  was  right — that  is,  he 
believed  he  had  done  the  will  of  God. 

Do  you  think  it  is  the  will  of  God  that  you  should 
harbor  runaway  slaves  ?  "  severely  asked  the  preacher. 

"  I  do,"  said  John  Brown. 

"  And  you,  Widow  Crosby  ?  "  said  the  preacher,  facing 
the  woman. 

'  I  do,"  said  Ruth  Crosby. 

The  accused  were  asked  to  withdraw.  They  did  so 
and  the  session  was  continued  behind  locked  doors. 

The  next  day  John  Brown  and  Ruth  Crosby  were 
notified  that  their  names  were  stricken  from  the  church 
books  "  on  account  of  conduct  unbecoming  to  professing 
Christians." 


CHAPTER    VIII 

"  NIGGER  STEALER  !  NIGGER  STEALER  !  " 

CHURCH  trials  often  afford  considerable  satisfaction 
to  church  members.  Spite  and  a  spirit  of  revenge 
are  never  absent  on  such  occasions  and  the  opportunities 
for  pokes  under  the  fifth  rib  are  readily  embraced. 
Feuds  sometimes  find  vent  in  church  trials,  and  it  must 
be  admitted  that  a  church  trial  is  not  so  bad  as  a  ven 
detta.  But  when  there  is  a  church  trial  the  devil  laughs, 


"  Nigger  Stealer  !  Nigger  Stealer  !"        275 

and  so  do  the  infidels.  In  fact,  the  village  infidel — the 
corner  grocery  atheist  —  is  usually  more  interested  in  the 
issue  than  the  average  church  member. 

The  scoffers  were  jubilant  v/hen  John  Brown  was 
"  turned  out  o'  church."  They  were  all  unmindful  of 
the  inconsistency  of  their  position,  which  assumed  that 
all  church  members  were  hypocrites,  anyway,  and  failed 
to  see  the  logical  sequence  that  the  man  turned  out  must 
at  least  be  different  from  those  who  discarded  him. 

Then  to  be  turned  out  of  church  in  those  days,  before 
heresy  was  popular,  meant  disgrace ;  it  was  not  many 
years  before,  that  all  criminals  were  tried  by  the  church, 
and  people  had  a  fixed  idea  that  if  a  jury  of  Christian 
people  said  a  man  was  bad,  it  must  be  so. 

Children  ever  adopt  the  opinions  of  their  elders,  and 
when  the  grown  folks  in  a  community  cease  to  respect  a 
man,  the  youngsters  tell  him  so.  The  growing  boys  of 
civilized  parents  are  always  cruel,  and  the  weak-minded, 
the  drunken,  the  friendless,  are  legitimate  targets  in  any 
village  for  mud  balls  and  decayed  vegetables.  The 
victim  of  the  stocks  was  ever  the  butt  of  all  the  cruel 
pranks  that  youth  could  invent,  and  no  sooner  is  the 
best  of  men  bound  with  cords  than  we  scourge  him,  spit 
upon  him  and  crown  him  with  thorns. 

The  night  after  that  church  trial  at  Hudson,  merry 
havoc  was  played  with  Ruth  Crosby's  flower-beds,  the 
front  door  of  her  house  was  smeared  with  tar,  and  in  the 
morning  several  dead  cats  adorned  the  little  porch. 

The  next  day  she  locked  the  cottage  where  she  had 
lived  so  many  busy,  useful  years  and  took  up  her  resi 
dence  with  the  family  of  John  Brown. 

There  was  no  intention  of  retreating  from  the  position 
they  had  taken  on  the  subject  of  human  rights.  The 
more  they  studied  the  theme  of  slavery,  the  plainer  it 


276  Time  and  Chance 

was  to  them  that  their  course  was  right.  The  more  they 
thought  of  slavery,  the  firmer  were  their  ideas  concerning 
its  iniquity. 

A  letter  was  sent  to  Margaret  Brydges  telling  her  of 
the  mishap  to  the  load  of  hay,  and  how  they  had  been 
turned  out  of  church  simply  because  the  load  upset. 
The  whole  matter  was  treated  lightly,  but  Mrs.  Brydges 
had  had  a  little  experience  herself  in  ostracism  and  she 
knew  what  it  meant. 

Margaret  sent  a  prompt  reply  expressing  her  sympathy, 
and  quoting  the  beatitude,  "  Blessed  are  ye,  when  men 
shall  revile  you,  and  persecute  you,  and  shall  say  all  man 
ner  of  evil  against  you  falsely,  for  My  sake.  Rejoice,  and 
be  exceeding  glad  :  for  great  is  your  reward  in  heaven  ;  for 
so  persecuted  they  the  prophets  which  were  before  you." 

The  letter  further  explained  that  a  negro  who  could 
read  and  write  was  a  factor  in  freedom's  cause  and  that 
the  education  of  the  negro  meant  the  honey-combing  of 
the  "  peculiar  institution."  So  the  rabid  fear  on  the 
part  of  slave-holders  about  the  blacks  being  taught  had  a 
basis  in  fact ;  and  from  their  standpoint  the  placing  of  a 
penalty  on  the  three  R's  was  a  perfectly  justifiable  move. 
Men  who  wish  to  hold  other  men  in  leash  have  good 
reason  for*preferring  mental  darkness  rather  than  light. 

So  a  part  of  Margaret  Brydges's  plan  of  campaign  was 
to  educate.  Teaching  blacks  to  read  and  write  was 
paving  the  way  for  emancipation.  Vast  numbers  of 
slaves  were  sunk  so  low  that  they  did  not  realize  their 
condition  and  had  no  conception  of  what  freedom  meant. 
But  to  teach  a  man  to  read  was  to  supply  him  the  tools 
for  further  progress. 

Through  Margaret's  influence,  and  by  the  help  of  cer 
tain  funds  which  she  had  collected  and  given,  the  college 
at  Oberlin  now  received  colored  people  on  exactly  the 


"  Nigger  Stealer  !  Nigger  Stealer  !"        277 

same  footing  as  whites.  Her  ambition  was  to  start  a 
school  that  would  be  a  feeder  for  Oberlin. 

To  this  end  Margaret  had  turned  her  house  into  a 
school.  The  scholars  ranged  in  years  from  five  to  fifty; 
and  after  explaining  this  in  her  letter  she  ended  with  a 
strong  appeal  that  Ruth  Crosby  should  leave  Hudson  at 
once,  meet  her  in  Cincinnati  and  assist  in  this  plan  of 
conducting  a  school  for  colored  pupils. 

Ruth  had  lived  in  Hudson  for  thirty-two  years.  In 
all  that  time  she  had  not  been  more  than  a  few  miles 
away.  She  was  now  fifty  years  old,  and  to  go  away  and 
leave  home  behind  seemed  like  leaving  the  earth  for 
another  world. 

She  hesitated  about  accepting,  and  really  questioned 
her  own  ability  to  do  the  work  successfully,  and  further 
than  this  she  half  felt  that  this  rich  Mrs.  Brydges  was 
endeavoring  to  do  good  by  indirection  in  putting  forth 
the  invitation;  and,  of  all  things,  she  shrank  from  being 
a  dependent. 

Ruth  resolved  to  stay  in  Hudson  and  fight  it  out — live 
down  the  disgrace;  and,  if  possible,  gradually  win  the 
town  over  to  her  way  of  thinking.  This  she  would  do 
by  the  integrity  of  her  life:  and  through  love  and  gentle 
ness  she  believed  that  the  harshness  and  the  prejudice 
would  melt  away. 

So  she  wrote  to  Mrs.  Brydges  thanking  her  for  her 
kind  offer  of  a  home  and  a  position  as  teacher,  and  tell 
ing  her  that  much  as  she  sympathized  with  the  mission 
of  giving  education  to  colored  people  and  whites  alike, 
yet  she  felt  her  duty  lay  in  Hudson.  She  directed  and 
sealed  the  letter  and  took  it  down  to  the  post-office. 
After  posting  the  missive  and  making  a  few  small  pur 
chases,  she  started  back  towards  John  Brown's. 

Some  noisy   children  making  mud  pies  in  the  street 


278  Time  and  Chance 

called  after  her ;  the  cry  was  taken  up  by  a  bigger  boy  on 
the  sidewalk,  and  as  she  hastened  her  walk  the  urchins 
in  the  street  followed  her,  shouting,  "  Nigger  stealer! 
Nigger  stealer !  ' '  She  suddenly  grew  nervous  and  started 
to  run,  when  a  stone  went  whizzing  past  her  head. 

Just  then  the  mother  of  one  of  the  youngsters  appeared 
on  the  scene,  and  grabbing  her  own  particular  hopeful, 
cuffed  his  ears  vigorously  as  punishment  for  his  insolence, 
and  at  this  the  embryo  mob  suddenly  scattered. 

But  the  deed  was  done — the  die  was  cast ! 

Hudson  was  no  longer  home  to  Ruth  Crosby.  She 
packed  up  a  few  necessary  articles  and  the  stage  that 
went  southward  the  following  day  carrying  a  letter  for 
Mrs.  Margaret  Brydges  at  Cincinnati,  also  carried  the 
woman  who  wrote  it. 


CHAPTER    IX 

RESULTS   OF    MIXING    SENTIMENT   AND   BUSINESS 

WHEN  a  man  concentrates  all  of  his  energies  on  one 
business  he  may  succeed  and  he  may  not.  If  he 
divides  his  time  and  talent  among  several  enterprises,  his 
chances  of  success  are  much  lessened ;  yet  if  he  has  a 
single  eye  for  "  number  one,"  he  still  may  arrive. 

But  should  he  allow  religion,  politics,  philanthropy, 
love  of  art  to  creep  into  his  waking  hours,  so  as  to  be 
come  a  passion,  his  financial  doom  is  sealed. 

When  John  Brown  took  philanthropy  into  his  life,  he 
signed  an  application  for  bankruptcy.  His  time  was  now 
divided  between  thoughts  of  Margaret,  education  of  black 
people  and  business.  Business  is  a  jealous  god,  and  says 
to  its  votary,  "  Thou  shalt  have  no  other  gods  before 


Results  of  Mixing  Sentiment  and  Business     279 

me."  So  commerce  was  wroth  with  John  Brown  and 
fortune  ceased  to  smile  upon  him. 

He  had  lost  favor  with  his  neighbors;  and  many  people 
who  owed  him,  no  longer  thought  it  necessary  to  pay. 
Some  of  these  people  had  borrowed  funds  from  him. 
And  all  those  whom  he  owed  wanted  their  money  at 
once.  Had  he  been  able  to  pay,  his  creditors  would  not 
have  cared  for  the  money,  but  now  they  refused  to  ac 
cept  notes,  where  such  obligations  were  always  before 
accepted  in  settlement. 

Two  years  before  Brown  had  signed  security  for  a 
friend — just  a  matter  of  form,  you  know.  The  holder  of 
the  note  now  demanded  immediate  payment  from  the 
endorser.  The  amount  was  twelve  hundred  dollars — not 
much  in  our  time,  but  a  large  sum  then  for  a  country 
merchant  to  meet  off-hand.  Brown  could  not  pay  it, 
and  the  sheriff  appeared  with  many  apologies  and  a  writ 
of  attachment  against  the  tannery. 

Then  the  small  creditors  became  frantic  for  their 
money;  and  the  debtors  increased  in  indifference  accord 
ing  to  the  square  of  the  difficulties  into  which  their 
creditor  was  plunged. 

A  singleness  of  purpose  is  the  prime  requisite  in  com 
merce —  the  whole  structure  is  founded  on  selfishness; 
and  had  Brown  been  willing  to  avail  himself  of  a  tech 
nicality  and  repudiate  the  claim  of  twelve  hundred  dol 
lars,  he  could  have  pulled  through.  But  he  scorned  any 
action  that  savored  of  duplicity — he  had  agreed  to  pay 
this  amount  if  his  friend  did  not,  and  he  would  do  it. 

Besides  this,  there  were  other  schemes  and  other  am 
bitions  in  his  head.  By  nature  he  was  a  pioneer;  he 
loved  the  wildness  of  the  woods,  and  the  sense  of  power 
that  comes  to  all  men  who  are  able  to  cope  with  untamed 
nature,  was  to  him  a  delight. 


280  Time  and  Chance 

Civilization  hates  individuality.  Its  desire  and  ten 
dency  is  to  iron  men  out  to  one  common  level.  It  pre 
scribes  and  proscribes;  it  limits  and  sets  bounds;  and  it 
has  ever  been  ready  to  apply  the  thumb-screws  to  him 
who  will  not  conform  to  its  edicts.  For  the  man  ahead 
of  his  time,  civilization  has  the  rack.  Society  had  said 
to  John  Brown:  "  Be  one  of  us,  conform  to  our  ways, 
accept  our  opinions,  do  as  we  do,  and  we  will  hold  fel 
lowship  with  you ;  but  if  you  persist  in  being  better  or 
worse  than  your  neighbors,  we  will  scourge  and  spit  upon 
you." 

Brown  heard  the  voice — it  spoke  in  no  uncertain  tone. 
He  longed  for  the  solitude  of  the  forest,  and  the  sufficing 
majesty  of  the  mountains.  As  wounded  animals  go 
away  to  the  woods  to  be  healed  (or  to  die),  and  as  the 
Indian  woman  feeling  the  pains  of  approaching  childbirth 
hides  away  under  the  friendly  boughs,  so  do  stricken 
souls  turn  to  Nature. 

But  there  was  a  trinity  of  powers  brought  to  bear  on 
Brown,  all  counseling  a  move.  There  was  the  restless 
spirit  of  the  pioneer;  the  two  penny  persecution  by  neigh 
bors;  and  the  desire  to  be  in  a  place  where  he  could 
shelter  fleeing  slaves,  and  teach  them  to  read  and  write 
and  worship  God. 

Where  to  go  ?  that  was  the  question.  Emigration  was 
pushing  through  to  the  West,  and  to  go  to  the  frontier 
would  be  out  of  line  of  communication  with  Cincinnati. 
But  Pennsylvania  was  not  far  away — Pennsylvania  with 
its  rich  valleys,  its  dense  forests  and  mountain  fastnesses. 

An  arrangement  was  entered  into  with  the  creditors 
whereby  Brown  gave  over  into  their  hands  the  tannery, 
store,  residence  and  farm.  He  was  allowed  to  keep  his 
live  stock  and  three  hundred  dollars  in  money.  With 
his  two  oldest  sons  he  counted  the  sheep — there  were 


Results  of  Mixing  Sentiment  and  Business     281 

nearly  four  hundred  of  them,  forty  head  of  cattle  and 
a  dozen  horses.  The  subject  was  laid  before  his  wife  and 
children.  Youngsters  always  want  to  move  and  Mrs. 
Brown  was  sick  and  weary  from  the  trouble  that  had 
come  to  them.  They  were  all  eager  and  hungry  to  get 
away. 

There  were  nine  children  in  the  family.  As  they  are 
to  play  important  parts  in  our  story,  their  names  in  order 
of  ages  are  given  here:  John,  Jr.,  Jason,  Owen,  Ruth, 
Frederick,  Sarah,  Watson,  Salmon  and  Oliver.  The 
first  five  on  the  list  were  children  of  Dianthe  Lusk. 

They  were  a  healthy,  rollicking  lot  of  youngsters  as 
one  ever  saw;  wild  young  barbarians  all,  as  children 
should  be,  for  the  first  requisite  in  the  making  of  a  man 
is  that  he  should  be  a  good  animal. 

John,  Jr.,  was  seventeen  and  Oliver  was  less  than  a 
year  old.  It  was  certainly  a  brood  to  be  proud  of,  and 
like  the  Roman  mother  of  old,  John  and  Mary  Brown 
counted  their  children  as  jewels.  So  they  were  rich,  and 
why  not  ?  Is  a  man  poor  with  all  these  flocks  and  herds, 
these  wagon  loads  of  household  goods,  and,  besides  that, 
a  loyal  wife  and  nine  hearty  children  ?  Far  from  it;  the 
Browns  were  happy  now  and  rich.  They  had  everything 
that  they  needed  and  they  were  going  away  to  find 
breathing  room. 

Joy  is  seldom  found  pure  except  in  times  of  transition. 
These  were  joyous  moments. 

And  yet  it  was  a  little  come-down  from  Deacon  and 
general  First  Citizen  of  the  town,  to  an  emigrant  who  had 
been  turned  out  of  the  church  and  whose  exodus  caused 
no  regret.  Then  as  to  the  children,  a  captious  observer 
might  have  noted  that  none  had  the  clear-cut  facial  lines 
of  their  father — they  lacked  his  individuality. 

But  they  were  a  happy  lot  as  they  moved  away  from 


282  Time  and  Chance 

Hudson  that  fine  September  day,  driving  their  flocks  and 
herds  before  them. 

The  father  had  cautioned  the  boys  to  restrain  their 
glee,  but  he  had  hard  work  to  keep  down  the  cheers,  and 
as  they  passed  by  houses  where  objectionable  neighbors 
lived,  John,  Jr.,  and  Jason  sent  stones  flying  as  a  last 
good-bye,  and  Owen  even  offered  to  fight  certain  boys 
who  sat  on  the  fence  watching  the  procession.  Once 
well  away  from  the  village  the  father  called  a  halt.  He 
gathered  the  family  together,  read  a  chapter  of  Scripture 
and  then  prayed  to  God  to  bless  them  in  the  new  under 
taking;  a  hymn  was  sung,  and  then  they  moved  forward 
—  eagerly,  merrily,  hopefully  forward.  All  of  their 
troubles  lay  behind. 


BOOK  IV 


283 


CHAPTER   I 

KANSAS    IN   THE    FIFTIES 

EASTERN  Kansas  is  as  fair  a  land  as  ever  the  sun 
looked  down  upon.  It  has  splendid  sweeps  of 
rolling  land  that  need  but  to  be  tickled  with  a  plow  to 
laugh  with  a  harvest ;  and  across  these  rich  prairies  are 
streams  whose  banks  are  lined  with  beautiful  groves  that 
gladden  the  heart  of  the  traveler. 

The  diversity  of  treeless  plain  and  wooded  slope,  of 
open  space  and  running  stream,  of  protecting  hill  and 
sunny  outlook,  was  first  a  paradise  for  the  hunter,  and 
then  a  refuge  and  delight  to  the  stock  raiser  and  agricul 
turist. 

In  1854,  when  the  United  States  Government  opened 
up  the  Territory  for  settlement,  there  was  an  instant  rush 
of  immigrants.  Any  citizen  could  pre-empt  one  hundred 
and  sixty  acres  of  land,  and  by  living  on  it  a  certain 
length  of  time  and  making  certain  improvements,  he  was 
given  a  full  title  to  his  homestead. 

From  the  Northern  States  came  the  "  prairie  schoon 
ers  "  of  New  Englanders  and  their  hardy  sons  who  had 
settled  in  Ohio,  Pennsylvania,  Indiana,  or  Illinois,  now 
pushing  on  to  this  new  Eldorado. 

And  from  across  the  sister  State  of  Missouri  poured 
another  tide  of  restless  wealth  seekers  from  the  South. 

For  the  first  time  in  the  history  of  our  country  James 
town  and  Plymouth  Rock  came  into  serious  collision. 

285 


286  Time  and  Chance 

Differing  in  temperament,  differing  in  religion,  differing 
in  taste  and  tradition,  each  with  virtues  that  the  other 
did  not  appreciate  and  faults  that  the  other  could  not 
understand, — is  it  any  wonder  that  they  clashed  ?  Be 
sides  all  this,  those  were  times  of  mad  rivalry ;  everyone 
desired  to  secure  the  best  place  and  the  man  who  first 
drove  down  his  stakes  was  the  man  who  owned  the  land. 
Under  such  conditions,  of  course,  disputes  would  occur. 
Two  men  might  claim  the  same  corner  of  God's  earth  and 
there  would  have  to  be  much  readjusting  and  patient 
endurance  or  else — fight. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  when  disputes  occurred  be 
tween  Yankee  and  Southron,  South  sided  with  South 
and  North  with  North.  Yet  even  then  all  might  have 
simmered  down,  and  the  young  Romeos  married  the 
fair  Juliets  and  peace  and  plenty  come  to  the  houses  of 
Montague  and  Capulet,  were  it  not  for  slavery. 

Slave  labor  and  free  cannot  exist  side  by  side  and  each 
retain  its  individuality.  The  free  labor  becomes  enervated 
or  the  slave  restless  and  discontented.  Furthermore,  there 
was  a  vast  political  question  at  issue  —  it  was  whether 
Kansas  should  send  to  Washington  representatives  who 
would  champion  the  Southern  cause  or  whether  should 
they  be  men  with  Yankee  proclivities. 

In  October,  1854,  four  sons  of  John  Brown  moved  to 
Kansas,  and  took  up  claims  ten  miles  from  the  village  of 
Osawatomie.  John,  Jr.,  and  Jason  were  married;  Owen 
and  Frederick  bachelors ;  but  Frederick  had  a  sweetheart 
in  the  East  whom  he  expected  to  send  for. 

Each  of  these  four  men  had  one  hundred  and  sixty 
acres  of  land;  that  is,  they  owned  just  a  section,  or  a 
square  mile  between  them.  Where  the  four  corners  of 
their  claims  came  together  they  built  four  log  houses. 
Three  of  these  houses  were  small,  with  dirt  roofs — a  bare 


Kansas  in  the  Fifties  287 

shelter  from  the  storm — the  other  was  quite  a  respectable 
edifice  as  log  houses  go. 

Owen  established  a  store  and  post-office,  and  they  called 
their  embryo  city  Brownsville.  Running  through  their 
land  was  a  beautiful  stream  and  near  at  hand  was  plenty 
of  wood.  They  had  a  few  sheep,  a  dozen  head  of  cattle, 
and  as  many  horses. 

They  were  happy,  were  these  pioneers,  happy  and  full 
of  hope.  All  that  winter  they  worked,  building  their 
houses  and  barns.  Sundays  Yankee  neighbors  would 
come  from  miles  away  and  they  would  hold  "  meetin'  ' 
and  make  the  rafters  ring  with  sounds  of  praise.  Game 
was  plentiful;  for  while  the  buffaloes  had  pushed  on  to 
the  West,  deer,  wild  turkeys,  prairie  chickens  and  water 
fowl  were  to  be  had  in  abundance.  So  they  feasted,  and 
worked  and  sang;  and  when  a  fifth  brother,  Salmon, 
came  on  a  few  months  later,  they  had  much  to  relate  in 
way  of  harmless  adventure  and  amusing  incident. 

These  Browns  were  not  rich,  but  they  had  enough  so 
that  they  could  live  comfortably  until  a  crop  could  be 
produced.  They  brought  with  them  garden,  farm  and 
flower  seeds,  grape  vines  and  several  hundred  fruit  trees ; 
and  the  last  of  February  had  scarcely  melted  the  winter's 
snow  before  they  were  planting  their  orchards.  On 
March  3Oth,  an  election  was  to  occur  at  which  represen 
tatives  were  to  be  chosen  for  the  Territorial  Legislature. 
There  was  much  feeling  on  the  subject  of  whether  Kansas 
should  be  a  slave  State  or  not,  and  at  this  election  the 
matter  would  be  practically  decided. 

The  Browns  were  too  busy  attending  to  their  farming 
to  take  a  very  active  interest  in  the  matter,  but  when 
travelers  came  to  their  cabins  from  time  to  time,  they 
expressed  themselves  vigorously  upon  the  subject.  The 
New  England  spirit  was  strong  in  their  veins;  town 


288  Time  and  Chance 

meetin'  day  with  the  right  of  a  freeman's  franchise  was 
the  most  glorious  day  in  the  year;  and  early  in  the  morn 
ing  of  the  3Oth  day  of  March,  the  five  Brown  brothers 
started  afoot  for  the  polling  place  ten  miles  away. 

On  every  little  knoll  the  prairie  chickens  drummed  and 
strutted,  great  flocks  of  plover  went  whirring  past,  and  at 
all  the  ponds  were  green-head  ducks  and  dancing  cranes. 
Here  and  there  across  the  prairie  could  be  seen  the  curl 
ing  smoke  rising  from  some  settler's  cabin  and  at  long 
intervals  teams  were  plowing  straight  furrows  across 
the  virgin  sod.  The  blackness  of  the  burnt  grass  was 
giving  way  to  greenest  -green ;  and  to  men  raised  in  a 
country  that  could  only  be  farmed  after  a  long,  pain 
ful  cutting  down  of  trees,  pulling  out  of  stumps,  and 
piling  up  of  stones,  this  beautiful  land  seemed  an  Eden 
indeed. 

The  five  stalwart  brothers  whistled  and  sang  and 
shouted  as  they  walked.  The  bright  sunshine  magnified 
objects  across  the  rolling  mounds  and  played  strange 
tricks  with  visual  senses.  Houses  miles  away  could  be 
seen  turned  upside  down  against  the  horizon  and  for 
several  minutes  there  was  a  vision  suspended  in  mid-air 
of  a  great  mob  of  men  on  horseback  and  in  wagons  miles 
and  miles  away.  Even  the  tropical  seas  cannot  compete 
with  a  sun-lit  plain  in  optical  illusions. 

At  several  cabins  they  were  joined  by  other  men,  also 
going  to  vote.  All  were  walking,  for  horses  must  be 
saved  for  the  plow.  In  two  hours  there  was  a  full  dozen 
men  in  the  party. 

"  Hello!  "  suddenly  cried  Jason  Brown,  "  why,  here  's 
old  man  Blanton,  he  should  be  at  the  polls,  for  he  showed 
me  only  yesterday  his  certificate  as  Judge  of  Election, 
signed  by  Governor  Reeder. " 

A  buckboard  drawn  by  an  old  white  horse  was  just 


Kansas  in  the  Fifties  289 

coming  up  out  of  the  little  valley  that  wound  around  a 
low  hummock. 

What  's  this,  neighbor  Blanton,  are  we  off  in  our 
date — we  thought  it  was  'lection  day  ?  " 

"  And  so  't  is,  gentlemen,  but  you  'd  better  go  back  ?  " 

"  Why  ?" 

'  Why  ?  What  a  question  !  Is  it  possible  you  have  n't 
heard  ?  Every  ravine  for  twenty-five  miles  has  been 
filled  for  two  days  with  Missourians,  and  they  are  votin'. 
Go  back,  for  if  they  know  you  are  Anti-Slavery  men  your 
lives  won't  be  safe — lots  of  them  are  fighting  drunk!  " 

'  But  you  are  a  Judge  of  Election — did  you  accept 
their  votes  ?  " 

'  Did  I  ?  No,  that  's  the  trouble.  When  I  refused, 
they  put  in  a  man  of  their  own,  and  I  've  barely  escaped 
with  my  life.  Go  back,  or  there  '11  be  bloodshed!  " 

We  're  not  the  kind  that  go  back  !  "  shouted  Owen 
Brown,  "  forward  march,  boys!"  And  forward  they 
went. 

Another  half  mile  brought  them  to  a  ridge,  whence 
they  could  look  across  at  the  little  settlement  two 
miles  away.  A  dozen  huts  looking  like  dolls'  houses 
dotted  the  plain;  one  straight  white  steeple  pointed  to 
the  zenith,  and  a  little  to  one  side  the  polling  place  could 
be  plainly  noted.  Around  it  was  a  dark  moving  blot  of 
black  on  the  green  of  the  prairie.  As  they  approached 
this  dark  blot,  it  turned  to  rusty  gray  and  separated  into 
parts;  and  horses,  wagons,  and  men  stood  out  plainly. 

From  several  of  the  wagons  flags  and  banners  were 
flying.  One  of  the  flag-poles  was  ornamented  with  a 
long  string  of  waving  hemp,  another  had  a  white  flag 
with  a  skull  and  crossbones  rudely  daubed  upon  it.  A 
whiskey  keg  upside  down  was  carried  on  another  pole. 

The  Browns  noticed  with  a  little  alarm  that  these  men 


290  Time  and  Chance 

were  armed  with  knives,  scythes  on  poles,  pitchforks,  and 
guns  of  every  period  of  antiquity. 

They  were  evidently  organized,  for  there  was  a  com 
missary  wagon  in  charge  of  a  sober  man,  while  everybody 
else  seemed  to  be  rearing-tearing  drunk. 

'  Here  they  come!  here  they  come,  all  good  honest 
Pros,  every  one,"  shouted  a  blatant  Missourian.  On  his 
black  slouch  hat  was  fastened  a  bunch  of  hemp  and  over 
his  shoulder  was  a  double-barreled  shotgun. 

Whiskey  first,  then  vote.  It  's  a  matter  of  con 
science — no  man  needs  to  keep  slaves  if  he  don't  want, 
but  he  shall  not  deny  the  privilege  to  anyone  else — 
whoop!  " 

The  newcomers  were  cheered  and  offered  whiskey  and 
hardtack.  Around  the  shanty  was  a  dense  crowd,  and 
Owen  soon  saw  that  if  his  party  voted  the  "  Pro  "  ticket 
they  would  be  allowed  to  get  through  to  the  window  to 
cast  their  ballots,  but  if  they  attempted  to  vote  "  Anti  " 
there  would  be  trouble.  The  Yankees  scattered  through 
the  crowd  and  Jason  picked  out  a  Pro  who  was  talkative, 
and  who  had  not  been  drinking  so  long  that  he  was  ill- 
natured. 

"  You  're  a  settler  here,  I  s'pose,"  remarked  Jason. 

"  Hell,  no,  I  'm  from  Mizzoory!  " 

"  All  your  crowd  from  over  the  line  ?  " 
'  Wall,  I  reckon — a  dollar  a  day  with  licker  and  grub 
haint  so  bad  !  " 
'  No,  indeed." 

"  We  '11  vote  the  dam  Yanks  to  hell  and  then  fight 
'em,  or  we  '11  fight  'em  and  vote  arterwards — two  hun- 
derd  of  us  here — two  comp'nies — there  's  a  comp'ny  at 
every  votin'  place  in  Kansas,  an'  if  that  's  not  nuff  we 
vote  at  two  places!  whoop  la!  No  free  niggers  in  ourn 
— free  whiskey  's  the  only  thing  for  we!  " 


Kansas  in  the  Fifties  291 

A  horseman  in  semi-uniform  came  galloping  across  the 
prairie  and  handed  a  message  to  the  captain  of  one  of  the 
companies.  It  was  an  order  that  more  voters  were 
needed  at  Ballou,  twelve  miles  away.  An  order  was 
given  for  one  of  the  companies  to  go.  The  men  tumbled 
pell-mell  into  wagons  and  onto  the  horses,  and  with  wild 
cheers  and  yells,  they  drove  away  followed  by  their  four- 
horse  commissary  wagon. 

Jason  and  Owen  quickly  consulted  and  thought  this  a 
good  time  to  vote.  They  got  their  little  company  to 
gether,  gave  each  man  an  Anti-Slavery  ballot  and  began 
pushing  up  to  the  polling  window. 

Less  see  your  ballots,  boys.  I  'm  here  to  see  that 
all  is  done  on  the  squar!  "  said  a  big  fellow  in  butternut. 
Evidently  this  man  was  a  joker,  for  the  crowd  laughed  at 
his  sally. 

'I    'm   commissioned   by   Congress  to  see  that  only 
honest  men  vote — show  up  the  paper,  pardner. " 

I  show  my  ballot  to  nobody,"  replied  Jason  firmly. 

The  man  jostled  against  Owen  and  began  crowding 
him  out  of  the  line,  others  crowded  against  him  and  the 
man  in  butternut  swore  at  them  roundly,  ordering  them 
back,  yelling,  "  Quit  your  pushin',  you  dam  galoots! 

And  the  more  cries  of  "  quit  pushin'  "  were  uttered, 
the  more  pushing  was  done. 

In  five  minutes  the  little  company  of  a  dozen  men  were 
pushed  clear  past  the  building.  They  stood  well  to 
gether,  though,  and  began  now  to  crowd  back.  Back 
ward  and  forward  they  surged,  and  gradually  they  were 
allowed  to  work  their  way  up  to  the  building.  They 
reached  it,  but  they  were  on  the  wrong  side  from  the 
window ;  in  the  scramble  they  had  lost  their  bearings. 
A  big  laugh  went  up  at  their  expense,  as  the  mob 
watched  their  discomfiture. 


292  Time  and  Chance 

'  We  are  actual  settlers,  all  of  us,  we  are  Anti- 
Slavery  men,  and  we  are  going  to  vote!  "  shouted  Jason. 

"  Hear  him — just  as  if  anyone  had  interfered!  "  an 
swered  the  big  man. 

"You  have  interfered  —  you  are  armed  and  we  are 
not,  yet  my  brother,  here,  only  a  boy,  can  whip  you  in  a 
fair  fight — will  you  fight  him,  Salmon  ?  " 

"  I  guess  I  will,"  answered  Salmon,  as  he  shed  his  coat. 

The  crowd  fell  back.  This  sudden  move  had  surprised 
them.  There  was  a  brief  lull  in  the  yells,  and  then  the 
crowd  called  on  the  big  man  to  go  in  an  kill  the  Yank. 
There  was  no  backing  out  —  the  big  joker  must  fight  or 
stand  convicted  of  cowardice. 

He  blanched  perceptibly,  hesitated,  pulled  at  his  dirty 
yellow  beard,  sighed,  and  slipped  his  coat.  A  ring  was 
made,  and  it  looked  as  if  the  tall,  slender  lad  of  nineteen 
had  more  than  met  his  match  in  the  big  Missourian. 

The  big  man  made  a  rush  like  a  mad  bull.  Salmon 
stepped  lightly  aside,  but  as  the  fellow  turned  to  come 
back  he  got  a  stinging  blow  in  the  ear ;  his  hands  dropped, 
and  before  he  could  guard,  Salmon  gave  him  a  swinging 
left-handed  blow  on  the  nose  which  sent  him  stumbling 
face  to  earth. 

The  crowd  rushed  forward  with  roars  of  "  Kill  the 
dam  Yanks,  kill  "em!"  but  quicker  than  thought  a  full 
half-dozen  of  the  Pros  stretched  their  lengths  on  the  grass 
with  blood  starting  from  their  noses,  eyes  and  ears. 

All  men  who  go  armed  have  a  wholesome  dread  of  a 
brawny  fist.  To  get  knocked  down  means  a  jar  that  is 
a  headache  for  a  week,  a  black  eye  for  a  month,  and 
disgrace  forever. 

The  crowd  fell  back,  but  the  cries  of  "  Kill  'em,  hang 
'em,  hang  the  Yanks  "  increased,  as  the  little  group  of 
unarmed  men  stood  backed  up  against  the  shanty.  Guns 


Kansas  in  the  Fifties  293 

were  fired  in  the  air,  and  the  threat  to  kill  them  might 
have  been  carried  out,  had  not  a  little,  light-haired  man 
sprang  out  of  the  covered  commissary  wagon  with  a 
pistol  in  each  hand.  He  slipped  through  the  mob  and 
in  a  twinkling  stood  with  the  Yankees. 

Keep  back,  gentlemen,  I  '11  plug  the  first  man  that 
touches  these  men!     Open  up  there,  and  let  them  out!  " 
But  we  have  n't  voted,"  said  Jason. 

"  Good  God,  what  of  it!  These  men  are  drunk.  I 
can  only  hold  'em  off  for  a  minute — you  must  go  now, 
please  go  now — they  will  kill  you  all — one  taste  of  blood 
and  they  snuff  you  out.  Go!  " 

The  little  man's  pistols  looked  out  straight  in  front 
and  the  crowd  parted.  He  walked  out  and  the  Yankees 
followed.  In  a  minute  they  were  outside  of  the  ring  and 
a  hundred  feet  from  the  polling  place. 

"  Git,  now!  "  shouted  the  little  man,  and  he  fired  one 
of  his  pistols  in  the  air. 

Whether  it  was  a  case  of  hypnotic  suggestion  is  not  for 
us  to  say.  But  the  Yankees,  now  thoroughly  frightened 
when  the  worst  danger  was  over,  broke  into  a  run.  It 
was  a  race  for.  life,  although  nothing  worse  than  yells, 
curses,  and  loud  laughter  followed  them,  backed  up  with 
a  few  random  shots.  It  was  a  complete  panic — a  rout. 

When  the  five  worthy  Browns  reached  Brownsville, 
they  were  tired,  worn  and  hungry.  They  had  started 
hopeful,  gay  and  buoyant;  they  returned  dishevelled, 
dejected  and  undone.  The  two  women  came  out  to 
meet  them,  each  carrying  a  baby,  and  sundry  little 
Browns,  sucking  their  thumbs,  tugged  at  their  skirts. 
Gracious,  womanly  women  that  they  were,  they  smiled 
a  greeting  to  their  husbands  and  brothers. 

"  How  I  wish  I  could  vote  " — called  Wealthy,  "  yet  I 
know  the  Anti-Slaveries  will  win,  now  won't  they?  " 


294  Time  and  Chance 

11  I    did    n't    vote  —  I    'm   not    twenty-one    yet,   you 
know!  "  said  Salmon. 


CHAPTER    II 

POLITICS   AND    STRIFE 

ONE  month  before  the  election  Governor  Reeder  had 
caused  a  census  to  be  taken,  and  the  actual  num 
ber  of  voters  in  the  Territory  was  found  to  be  2905.  At 
the  election  6113  votes  were  cast;  1400  of  these  were 
Anti-Slavery.  But  before  the  news  reached  the  Browns 
other  exciting  events  had  occurred. 

The  big  man  whom  Salmon  had  so  punished,  proved 
to  be  one  Scott  Carver,  or  "  Cap"  Carver,  as  he  was 
called,  a  man  of  some  property  and  considerable  influ 
ence.  His  ranch  was  just  across  the  Missouri  River, 
thirty-five  miles  east  from  Brownsville.  The  place  was  a 
general  rendezvous  for  all  the  ruffians  and  rogues  in  that 
section. 

When  Captain  Carver  returned  to  his  home  that  night 
after  election,  he  drove  off,  with  the  help  of  his  friends, 
fourteen  head  of  cattle  that  belonged  to  the  Browns,  as 
salve  for  his  broken  nose  and  wounded  feelings.  In  the 
morning  the  Browns  discovered  that  their  choice  blooded 
stock,  brought  clear  from  Ohio,  were  gone.  It  was  not 
difficult  to  follow  the  trail  across  the  prairie.  Owen  and 
John  tracked  the  drove  straight  to  "  Cap  ''  Carver's  ranch 
and  there  at  sundown  found  the  cattle  mixed  in  a  herd 
of  several  hundred  others. 

They  demanded  their  property.  Carver  declared  that 
he  had  bought  the  cattle  in  Illinois,  and  that  he  himself 
had  never  been  in  Kansas  at  all.  There  was  a  full  score 
of  men  around  the  place,  and  they  intimated  that  if  the 


Politics  and  Strife  295 

two  visitors  did  not  get  back  to  the  other  side  of  the  river 
and  stay  there,  it  might  go  hard  with  them.  The  Browns 
returned  home  and  invoked  the  law.  But  the  sheriff  and 
county  judge  claimed  that  they  had  no  jurisdiction  in 
Missouri.  It  was  practically  a  foreign  country  and 
extradition  was  a  thing  entirely  unheard  of. 

Then  the  Browns  tried  to  organize  a  posse  to  go  over 
and  forcibly  take  possession  of  their  own,  but  the  diffi 
culty  of  cutting  out  fourteen  head  of  cattle  from  a  herd 
of  two  hundred,  and  making  a  fight  against  odds,  was 
too  great  for  the  neighbors  to  think  of.  More  than 
that,  the  Devons  had  probably  been  driven  further  away 
by  this  time.  So  spring  opened,  and  the  Brown  babies 
had  no  milk,  and  coffee  was  drunk  with  sugar  only. 

Plowing  was  begun  and' crops  of  corn,  wheat  and  oats 
planted. 

The  fact  that  the  Territory  had  gone  in  favor  of  slavery 
by  a  big  majority  did  not  banish  the  sunshine  and  spring 
showers;  the  grain  was  growing,  the  flowers  blooming, 
and  the  vegetables  in  the  garden  were  a  delight  to  the 
eyes  of  the  women.  Yet  the  men  had  not  forgotten  that 
their  votes  had  not  been  counted  at  the  last  election,  and 
the  thought  that  the  same  scene  would  probably  be 
played  over  again  in  the  fall  was  galling  in  the  extreme. 

In  June,  John,  Jr.,  and  Jason  made  a  trip  to  Lawrence 
for  supplies.  Lawrence  was  the  State  capital,  and  while 
there  the  Browns  made  a  plea  to  the  Governor,  asking 
for  help  in  getting  their  cattle  back.  The  Governor 
treated  them  with  great  courtesy,  was  very  sorry  indeed ; 
he  would  look  into  the  matter  personally  and  would  write 
Captain  Carver  to  return  the  stock.  The  cattle  must 
have  been  taken  accidentally — stock  was  continually 
straying  away,  and  Captain  Carver's  herdsmen  had  only 
made  a  mistake. 


296  Time  and  Chance 

The  Browns  saw  that  they  had  small  hope  from  this 
direction,  so  they  talked  with  others  and  talked  freely. 
On  the  subject  of  slavery  they  expressed  themselves 
plainly,  and  tried  to  get  a  promise  from  various  citi 
zens  that  if,  at  the  November  election,  the  ruffians  from 
Missouri  returned,  they  would  fight. 

In  fact,  they  made  a  canvass  of  the  town  and  got  the 
promise  of  over  a  hundred  men  that  they  would  not  stand 
idly  by  and  see  their  State  overrun  by  a  lawless  element. 
An  effort  had  already  been  made  to  organize  militia  com 
panies,  and  from  the  encouragement  they  received,  they 
felt  sure  that  the  disgraceful  scenes  of  the  previous  March 
would  not  be  repeated. 

Enthusiasm  soon  fans  itself  into  a  glow ;  it  is  so  much 
pleasanter  to  agree  with  an  enthusiastic  man  than  to  dis 
pute  him,  that  easy  converts  are  made. 

On  the  way  home  the  Browns  called  at  every  settler's 
cabin  and  only  one  theme  was  discussed.  Very  little 
opposition  was  made  to  their  plan,  which  was  just  this 
and  nothing  more:  the  actual  settlers  of  Kansas  must 
arm  themselves,  organize  and  repel  any  invasion  that 
might  occur  on  election  day.  A  good  bold  stand,  once 
for  all,  would  do  the  business. 

All  they  talked  with  agreed  to  this ;  some  were  a  bit  luke 
warm  ;  two  or  three  had  never  heard  that  Missourians  had 
marched  over  and  voted  illegally — was  it  not  a  mistake  ? 
But,  of  course,  only  residents  of  Kansas  should  vote — 
they  promised  to  use  their  influence  on  the  side  of  right. 

The  two  men  reached  home  with  their  wagon-load  of 
provisions.  Besides  provisions  they  brought  powder  and 
lead  for  melting  up  into  bullets;  and  besides  the  powder 
and  lead  they  brought  glowing  news  of  how  everywhere 
men  were  arming,  and  of  how  in  November  a  fair  election 
would  be  held. 


Politics  and  Strife  297 

Even  the  women  caught  the  enthusiasm,  and  at  odd 
times  the  next  day  Jason's  wife  molded  bullets  as  she 
sang  a  lullaby  to  her  babe. 

On  the  third  night  after  the  travelers  had  returned  a 
rap  was  heard  at  the  door  of  the  long  log  house  where 
John  and  Jason  lived  with  their  families. 
'  Who  's  there  ? "  called  John. 

We  're  movers  and  my  wife  here  is  sick  —  can't  you 
take  us  in  till  morning  ?  " 

John  got  up,  unbarred  the  door,  and — looked  into  the 
muzzle  of  a  double-barreled  shotgun. 

Stand  still,  or  I  '11  blow  you  to  hell!  "  said  a  hoarse 
voice.  The  shotgun  was  held  straight  at  his  breast  as 
four  other  men  pushed  into  the  house.  They  flashed 
a  dark  lantern  on  the  row  of  bunks  and  threatened  to  kill 
the  first  person  that  moved. 

We  won't  hurt  you  if  you  're  decent,  we  want 
nothin'  but  your  guns  and  ammunition,"  said  the  spokes 
man  of  the  party. 

John  hesitated. 

Tell  us  quick  —  we  want  no  foolin'  — your  wimmen 
won't  be  safe  a  minute  if  I  whistle  twice!  " 

John  pointed  to  a  chest  and  to  the  glint  in  the  corner. 

Two  of  the  ruffians  carried  out  the  chest,  and  another 
took  the  guns.  They  then  backed  out  of  the  door,  after 
threatening  to  kill  the  first  person  who  appeared  outside. 

Soon  there  was  a  firing  and  the  "  phit,  phit  "  of  bullets 
could  be  heard  as  they  struck  against  the  house.  When 
the  firing  ceased  the  rumble  of  a  wagon  could  be  heard. 
John  shoved  open  the  sliding  window  and  in  the  bright 
moonlight  could  see  a  wagon  and  a  dozen  horsemen  dis 
appearing  across  the  prairie. 

Jason  was  up  and  dressed  by  this  time.  He  ran  across 
to  awaken  Salmon  and  Frederick  who  slept  in  the  shanty 


298  Time  and  Chance 

opposite.  It  was  not  necessary;  they  were  already  very 
wide  awake.  They  had  the  same  tale  to  tell  as  he,  and 
Owen  the  same.  Doubtless  they  had  all  been  awakened 
at  the  same  moment.  Only  their  guns,  pistols  and  am 
munition  were  taken.  The  whole  plot  had  been  carefully 
planned  and  carried  out  without  a  hitch.  All  the  mar 
auders  wore  black  masks,  and  they  had  talked  but  little. 

Jason,  Frederick,  and  Owen  at  once  started  for  Law 
rence  to  report  the  affair  to  the  Governor  and  secure  more 
arms.  On  the  way  they  found  that  several  other  well- 
known  settlers  had  been  served  in  the  same  way. 

The  Governor  received  them  kindly.  He  was  very 
sorry  to  hear  how  they  had  been  treated  ;  he  would  inves 
tigate  the  matter  personally  and  see  what  could  be  done. 
He  had  no  authority  to  supply  them  more  arms:  there 
was  no  precedent  for  such  action,  but,  of  course,  they 
could  buy  guns  if  they  chose. 

But  they  had  no  money. 

They  used  their  last  dime  to  buy  paper,  an  envelope 
and  a  postage  stamp.  They  wrote  to  their  father  telling 
him  of  what  had  happened  and  asking  him  to  send  them 
arms  so  that  they  could  protect  themselves. 

Then  they  hitched  up  their  horse  to  the  wagon  and 
started  for  home. 

They  had  been  gone  three  days,  and  the  tidings  they 
brought  were  not  inspiring.  But  it  was  nothing  to  what 
the  Browns  of  Brownsville  had  to  tell  them. 

The  night  they  went  away,  every  horse  the  brothers 
owned  (save  the  one  they  drove)  had  been  stolen. 


Caught  in  a  Trap  !  299 

CHAPTER   III 

CAUGHT    IN   A   TRAP ! 

HERE  we  are — like  pigs  in  a  sty — we  can't  fight,  for 
we  have  no  arms — 

"  But  I  '11  tell  you  what  we  can  do  !  " 

"  What  is  it,  then  ?" 

"  Starve!  " 

This  one  word  seemed  to  rumble  through  the  long  low 
room  of  the  log  cabin  like  a  grim  spirit  of  evil.  It  put  a 
quietus  on  further  discussion,  and  the  group  of  five  men 
and  two  women  sat  there  in  silence.  Outside  in  every 
direction  stretched  the  blackness  of  the  plain  over  which 
the  prairie  fires  had  so  recently  run. 

The  sun  had  gone  down  and  twilight  seemed  to  come 
up  out  of  the  earth  with  the  night  dews.  It  was  the  last 
of  September  and  the  scudding  clouds  that  flew  south 
ward  were  a  fit  backing  for  the  V-shaped  flocks  of  wild 
geese  that  went  screaming  before  the  wind. 

Across  the  little  gulch  that  ran  near  came  the  bark  of 
a  prairie  wolf,  and  this  was  soon  answered  by  another 
only  a  little  way  off. 

'  There  's  no  chickens  here — they  might  as  well  go 
'way,"  said  one  of  the  women  who  sat  hand  in  hand  with 
her  husband  in  the  open  doorway. 
'  Not  a  feather." 
'  That  's  nothing  to  the  pigs." 

"  But  what  are  pigs  to  cows  when  there  are  babies  to 
feed  ? " 

"  And  what  are  cows  to  horses  when  there  is  land  to 
plow  ? " 

'  But  you  have  a  horse! 

"  Surely — and  nothing  to  feed  him!  " 


300  Time  and  Chance 

There  in  one  end  of  the  room  stood  the  patient,  bony 
old  horse,  nibbling  at  the  bark  on  the  branches  of  cotton- 
wood  that  were  thrown  down  in  front  of  him. 

"  I  say  we  have  the  horse,"  repeated  the  woman,  dis 
regarding  the  man's  remark,  "  and  we  have  the  wagon. 
The  wagon  will  hold  a  camping  outfit,  and  the  children 
and  the  rest  of  us  can  walk.  We  are  only  wasting  time 
here — we  must  get  back  to  God's  country  before  the 
snow  flies!  " 

"  But  you  know  father  wrote  us  that  the  arms  were  on 
the  way!  "  mildly  protested  her  husband. 

"  How  many  times  must  I  hear  that  ?     If  they  had 
started  in  July  they  would  have  been  here  a  month  ago." 
'  Well,  if  help  does  not  show  up  in  three  days  we  will 
sing  the  doxology  and  retreat — are  all  agreed  ?  " 

"  And  all  get  killed  on  the  way  ?  " 
'  Pshaw!     You  know  that  the  ruffians  want  us  to  go. 
If  they  see  we  are  going  they  will  offer  no  objections.     It 
is  our  staying  here  that  aggravates  'em." 

'  Well,  it  's  getting  chilly.  Let  's  be  extravagant  and 
start  a  fire  to  cheer  things  up  a  bit,  and  we  will  decide  on 
something  and  then  do  it!  " 

A  crackling  fire  of  brushwood  was  made  in  the  big, 
mud-chinked  fire-place.  The  dancing  gleams  of  light 
sent  out  strange,  cavorting  shadows  among  the  rafters 
overhead  and  filled  the  room  with  a  luminous  glow. 

Ranged  along  the  wall  was  a  row  of  bunks.  Piles  of 
soft  upland  prairie  grass,  with  buffalo  robes  laid  on  top, 
made  comfortable  beds.  In  these  bunks  could  be  seen 
various  tow-colored  heads,  and  the  regular,  deep  breath 
ing  of  healthy  children  could  be  heard.  Tin  pans  and 
skillets  hung  on  the  wall;  across  one  corner  was  a  cup 
board  with  a  calico  curtain  before  it.  The  only  furniture 
in  the  house  was  a  long  pine  table  and  several  hickory 


Caught  in  a  Trap  !  301 

chairs.     Stretched  across  the  rafters  overhead  were  strings 

o 

of  dried  pumpkin,  several  pieces  of  jerked  venison,  and 
bunches  of  catnip  and  sage. 

For  a  hunter's  camp  it  would  have  been  just  right.  If 
there  had  been  a  few  guns  in  the  corner  and  these  five 
men  there  alone,  each  supplied  with  a  pipe,  and  one  man 
with  heels  on  a  chair,  playing  an  accordeon,  the  sight 
would  have  gladdened  our  town-weary  souls. 

But  not  one  of  these  five  men  used  tobacco,  they  had 
no  accordeon,  and  worse  —  they  had  no  guns.  And  the 
presence  of  the  two  women  and  the  children  and  the  old 
horse  tied  in  the  corner,  gave  a  semi-tragic  setting  to 
the  scene. 

They  were  handsome  fellows,  these  five  tall,  lithe 
young  men,  handsome  in  their  ragged  raiment,  and  un 
dismayed  in  their  youthful  strength. 

"  Go  on,  Jason,  read  the  letter — we  '11  imagine  it  has 
just  come  and  that  we  do  not  know  a  word  of  what  it 
contains." 

The  man  addressed  went  to  the  cupboard  in  the  corner 
and  took  out  a  letter  that  seemed  soiled  and  worn  from 
much  handling.  He  read  : 

NORTH  ELHA,  N.  Y.,  June  26,  1855. 
MY  DEAR  CHILDREN: 

Your  letter  telling  of  the  outrages  that  have  been  inflicted 
upon  you  by  the  Pro-Slavery  men  has  been  received.  I 
showed  the  letter  to  Mr.  Gerritt  Smith  at  Syracuse  and  also  to 
others  who  are  interested  in  Kansas  affairs.  They  have  placed 
in  my  hands  upward  of  four  hundred  dollars  to  be  used  in 
supplying  arms  whereby  you  can  protect  yourselves  and  your 
families.  I  have  purchased  forty  rifles  and  several  thousand 
rounds  of  ammunition  and  will  start  them  forward  without 
delay  by  two  trusty  messengers.  One  of  these  messengers  is 
your  brother  Oliver,  who,  although  only  sixteen  years  old,  is 


302  Time  and  Chance 

very  handy  with  a  rifle.  The  other  man  I  have  known  some 
years  and  I  think  you  can  depend  on  him  in  case  of  an  emer 
gency. 

You  have  settled  on  your  land  in  legal  manner  and  com 
plied  with  all  the  requirements,  and  you  must  not  be  driven 
out  simply  because  you  prefer  to  have  Kansas  a  free  State. 
There  are  enough  arms  for  yourselves  and  neighbors.  These 
arms  are  to  be  used  for  your  self  protection,  and  should  any 
force  of  men  march  against  you  to  drive  off  your  stock,  or  fire 
your  wheat  fields  and  hay  stacks,  you  are  to  fight. 

Your  mother  and  all  of  the  children  are  quite  well  and  join 
me  in  sending  love.  May  God  bless  you  ever,  is  the  prayer  of 
your  father. 

Yours  truly, 

JOHN  BROWN. 

When  the  letter  was  finished  there  was  a  silence  broken 
only  by  the  neighing  of  the  horse  and  the  snoring  of  the 
children. 

"  If  they  run  off  our  stock,  we  are  to  shoot!  Oho,  I 
see  !  " 

When  aside  from  old  Joe  we  have  n't  a  jack  rabbit 
to  call  our  own." 

"  And  all  of  the  wheat  has  been  burned." 
"  And  so  has  the  hay." 

"  Now  read  us  what  Vice-President  David  B.  Atchison 
said  in  his  address  to  the  Missourians — you  have  the 
clipping,  Owen  ?  " 

'  Yes,  I  have  it,  it  is  such  pleasant  reading,  I  did  not 
care  to  throw  it  away." 

'  Read  it  then,  we  need  something  cheerful." 
Well,  here  she  goes: 

'  The  people  of  Kansas  in  their  first  election  will  decide 
for  themselves  whether  slavery  shall  exist  there  or  not.  Now 
if  a  set  of  religious  fanatics  and  demagogues  a  thousand  miles 


Caught  in  a  Trap  !  303 

away  wish  to  give  their  money  to  abolitionize  Kansas,  it  is  your 
duty  to  counteract  their  knavish  purpose:  you  who  live  but  a 
day's  journey  from  the  Territory.  If  you  allow  Kansas  to  be 
settled  by  these  Puritans,  they  will  run  away  your  slaves  and 
make  you  continual  trouble.  We  are  men  of  peace,  and  peace 
we  will  have,  by  God,  even  if  we  have  to  fight  for  it.  Now, 
Missourians,  do  your  duty,  and  decide  this  question.  If  any 
fool  abolitionist  gets  in  the  way,  so  much  the  worse  for  him.'  " 

The  young  man  ceased  to  read  and  again  there  was  a 
silence. 

"  Is  that  all  ?  "  asked  Jason  after  a  pause. 
"  It  's  enough,  is  n't  it  ?  " 

'  Now,  give  us  that  manifesto." 

'  The  Missouri  Governor's  ?  " 
"Yes." 

'  Very  well,  here  it  is  " : 

'  By  consent  of  the  parties,  the  present  contest  in  Kansas 
is  made  the  turning  point  in  the  destinies  of  slavery.  If  the 
North  triumphs,  abolitionism  will  grow  more  insolent  and 
aggressive,  until  the  utter  ruin  of  the  South  is  accomplished. 
If  the  South  secures  Kansas,  she  will  extend  slavery  into  all 
territory  south  of  the  fortieth  parallel  to  the  Rio  Grande,  and 
this,  of  course,  will  secure  the  pent-up  institution  of  slavery  a 
proper  outlet  and  make  a  market  for  the  rapidly  increasing 
number  of  slaves.  It  will  also  restore  the  power  of  the  South 
in  Congress — giving  us  the  Legislature  and  Senate.  But  if  the 
North  secures  Kansas,  the  power  of  the  South  will  gradually 
diminish,  and  the  slave  population  will  become  valueless,  for 
there  will  be  too  many  slaves  to  the  acre,  so  to  speak.  All 
depends  upon  prompt  action  at  the  present  moment.' 

'  Now,  folks,  you  know  the  situation.     What  shall  we 
do  ?  "  said  the  elder  of  the  young  men. 
'  We  will  retreat  with  honor." 
"  Yes,  with  honor,  't  is  all  we  have." 


304  Time  and  Chance 

"  But  if  the  messengers  with  arms  come  after  we  're 
gone  ?  " 

"  No  danger,  they  have  been  captured  and  killed,  or 
else  turned  back." 

"  And  the  post-office — shall  we  make  one  more  trip  to 
see  if  there  's  any  word  for  us  ?  " 

"  It  's  too   risky,  if  there  were  letters  for  us,  't  is  n't 
likely  the  postmaster  would  give  them  to  us,  anyway." 
'  Then  we  are  to  retreat  ? " 

11  Yes." 

"  When  ?" 
'  To-morrow  night." 

You  have  heard  the  motion,  all  ready  for  the  ques 
tion  :  All  who  favor  a  Northward  retreat  under  cover  of 
darkness  to-morrow  night,  hold  up  their  hands.  Owen, 
Fred,  Wealthy,  John,  Salmon,  in  favor,  and  Ellen  won't 
vote.  Women  can  vote  here,  sister  Ellen,  what  do  you 
say  ?  " 

Wait  three  more  days  and  three  nights,  and  if  help 
does  not  then  come  we  will  go,"  replied  the  young 
woman. 

"  Now  what  do  you  say  to  the  last  motion  ? " 

"  What  's  the  use!  " 

We  Ve  already  waited  too  long!  " 

"  We  're  nearly  to  the  bottom  of  the  meal  barrel." 
'  Well, "continued  the  self-appointed  chairman,  "what 
ever  we  do  should  be  unanimous.  Ellen  has  got  four 
babies  and  a  good  level  head — she  has  as  much  at  stake 
as  any  of  us,  let  's  follow  her  advice  just  this  once.  On 
the  third  night  after  this  we  take  up  the  march !  Are 
you  agreed  ?  " 

Two  women  and  four  men  voted  a  reluctant  aye.  The 
old  horse  in  the  corner  pawed  assent  and  the  sleeping 
babies  in  the  bunks  made  no  protest. 


John  Brown  to  the  Rescue  305 

CHAPTER    IV 

JOHN   BROWN   TO   THE    RESCUE 

WHEN  John   Brown   received  that  letter  from  his 
sons,  asking  that  he  send  them  weapons,  did  he 
comply  with  their  request  and  send  them  arms  ?     No, 
he  carried  them  arms. 

Three  nights  had  passed  to  the  anxious  watchers  since 
they  had  made  their  resolution  to  depart.  They  had 
packed  just  what  was  necessary  for  them  to  take  and  no 
more ;  the  rest  of  their  belongings  were  to  be  abandoned. 
A  beacon  light  had  been  burned  out  on  the  prairie;  only 
wolves  and  night  birds  had  answered  to  its  friendly 
gleams,  but  now  on  the  evening  of  the  fourth  night  there 
was  a  wild  tumult  of  delight,  for  Oliver  and  the  "  trusty 
messenger  "  had  come. 

But  we  hardly  expected  you  ?  "  said  Ellen,  as  she 
seated  the  old  man  in  a  chair  and  they  all  crowded  around 
him. 

You  only  said  you  'd  send  '  a  trusty  messenger! 
And  why  not,  pray  ?  " 

"  And  who  is  so  trusty  as  he  ?  "  called  Jason. 

The  children  crowded  around  their  grandfather,  and  he 
held  a  whole  armful  on  his  knee,  while  several  who  could 
not  reach  the  coveted  haven  of  his  arms  begged  that  he 
would  show  them  the  inside  of  his  silver  watch,  and 
others  still  demanded  a  bear  story. 

The  two  women  busied  themselves  getting  supper,  and 
talked  together  in  great  good-nature;  the  five  brothers 
went  in  and  out  of  the  house  carrying  boxes  and  bundles 
and  bags  that  had  been  brought  in  the  one-horse  spring 
wagon.  They  paused  now  and  then,  listening  to  the 
jolly  voice  of  Oliver  as  he  stood  in  the  wagon  passing  out 


306  Time  and  Chance 

the  load.     Oliver  was  only  a  boy,  barely  sixteen,  big, 
strong,  and  good-natured. 

'  You  drove  from  Chicago  ? " 

Yes,  shipped  the  guns  by  boat  to  Chicago — there  we 
bought  the  horse  and  wagon,   loaded  'er  up  and  made 
straight  for  Iowa;  then  into  Nebraska  and  down  here." 
Did   anyone  know  that  you   had    a    wagon-load  of 


'  Nary — why  should  they  ?  You  see  the  surveying 
instruments  were  sticking  out  behind  and  people  took  us 
for  surveyors.  We  made  twenty  miles  a  day— walked  all 
the  way  to  make  it  easy  for  the  horse  —  did  you  see  my 
shotgun  ?  " 

"  No,  where  is  it  ?  " 

'Under  the  seat  there  —  double-barreled,  stub  and 
twist.  We  feasted  on  prairie  chickens  the  whole  way. 
You  oughter  see  me  drop  'em  on  the  wing." 

"  When  did  you  leave  Chicago  ?  " 

"  Oh,  two  months  ago.  You  see  father  had  to  skir 
mish  around  for  money — Sharpe's  rifles  cost  like  tarnation  ! 
Mrs.  Brydges  sent  him  two  hundred  dollars,  Gerritt  Smith 
a  hundred,  and  half  a  dozen  other  folks  fifty  apiece.  Oh, 
I  tell  you  the  North  is  with  us.  Kansas  is  the  battle 
ground,  they  say,  and  if  we  carry  the  Territory  Anti  it 
just  means  death  to  Slavery.  That  's  what  Frederick 
Douglass  says,  anyway — he  was  at  our  house  for  a  week 
— he  's  a  darkey  himself  and  oughter  know  if  anybody 
does.  Carry  that  powder  a  little  careful,  Salmon — what 
in  the  mischief  !  You  aint  taking  our  horse  in  the  house, 
are  you  ?  " 

'  Well,  I  guess  so;  horses  aint  safe  outside,  here." 

"  Goodness  me,  what  nice  neighbors  you  've  got,  for 
sure!  I  must  show  you  how  to  shoot  a  Sharpe's  rifle 
to-morrow!  " 


John  Brown  to  the  Rescue  307 

And  all  this  time  old  John  Brown  sat  before  the  fire 
place  with  four  babies  on  his  knee  and  three  on  the  floor 
at  his  feet,  telling  them  bear  stories. 

It  's  been  quite  a  while  since  we  saw  him  last — nearly 
twenty  years.  Time  has  not  been  o'er  gentle  with  him, 
for  although  he  is  now  only  fifty-five  years  of  age,  he 
looks  sixty  or  more.  He  seems  thinner;  his  smooth- 
shaven  face  is  brown  and  bronzed,  and  the  strong  jaw 
and  sharp  chin  stand  out  in  bony  outline.  The  dark 
blue  eyes  —  wide  set  —  have  not  lost  their  lustre,  nor  has 
the  stiff  bristling  hair  grown  thin,  but  it  has  turned  to 
iron  gray.  The  strong  face  is  seamed  and  scarred  by 
life's  rough  weather. 

"  Supper  's  ready,"  calls  Wealthy.  '  Here,  let  me 
take  the  baby!  " 

But  the  baby  clings  to  grandfather's  neck,  and  grand 
father  explains  that  he  has  been  the  father  of  only  twenty 
babies  of  his  own,  and  that  he  knows  just  how  to  take 
care  of  'em.  As  the  man  arises  we  perceive  that  he  is 
not  so  tall  as  anyone  of  the  six  sons  who  stand  waiting  for 
him  to  say  grace.  His  shoulders  droop,  his  neck  is  long, 
and  his  lithe  form  gives  him  a  look  of  height  which  he  does 
not  possess.  He  is  not  over  five  feet  ten  ;  and  his  weight 
is  under  a  hundred  and  fifty  pounds,  rather  than  over. 

The  burdens  of  life  have  robbed  him  of  an  inch  in 
height;  and  care,  with  hard  work  and  manly  abstinence, 
has  made  him  a  bundle  of  bone  and  wiry  sinews.  As 
he  sits  at  the  table  with  the  baby  on  his  lap,  now  and 
then  giving  the  youngster  a  bite  and  talking  to  the 
chubby  rogue  in  foolish  baby  prattle,  your  heart  goes  out 
to  him  as  you  look  on  his  strange,  sad  countenance. 
Then  you  see  that  massive  jaw  and  catch  the  gleam  of 
those  threatening  eyes  and  you  draw  back  —  you  do  not 
understand  him. 


308  Time  and  Chance 

This  is  a  disappointed  man  we  see  :  that  is  certain.  He 
is  in  perfect  health  and,  therefore,  not  nervous,  but  he  has 
a  couchant  look  at  times.  The  face  shows  disappoint 
ment  ;  it  speaks  of  hopes  too  high  for  earth,  ambitions 
unrealized,  and  aspirations  that  cannot  be  gratified  this 
side  of  the  grave. 

Failure  had  followed  John  Brown  for  twenty  years  with 
dogged  steps.  In  Pennsylvania,  wolves,  bears,  and  wild 
cats  had  thinned  his  pretty  flocks  of  sheep.  The  dense 
woods  were  not  adapted  for  pasturage  and  he  soon  saw 
that  to  save  his  sheep  he  must  return  them  to  the  open. 
So  with  the  help  of  the  two  oldest  boys  the  herds  were 
driven  back  to  "  the  Western  Reserve." 

For  a  time  the  sheep  prospered  in  Ohio  and  large 
fleeces  brought  fair  prices;  but  it  soon  became  evident 
that  the  mill-owners  of  the  East,  to  whom  the  farmers  of 
the  Western  Reserve  sent  their  wool,  did  not  treat  them 
honestly.  In  fact,  the  farmers  were  being  fleeced  as  well 
as  their  flocks. 

They  held  meetings  and  discussed  the  question  of 
what  was  best  to  do ;  and  it  was  decided  that  if  they  had 
a  responsible  agent  in  the  East  to  whom  they  could  ship, 
he  would  see  that  the  wool  was  properly  graded  and  sold 
for  what  it  was  worth,  and  the  proceeds,  less  a  fair  com 
mission,  could  be  returned  to  them.  But  who  should  go  ? 

There  seemed  to  be  only  one  man  who  had  the  con 
fidence  of  the  wool-growers  in  all  that  section  of  country, 
and  that  was  John  Brown.  Many  people  did  not  like 
him ;  they  thought  him  stubborn  and  fanatical,  but  he 
knew  how  to  grade  wool,  he  had  some  education,  and  he 
was  honest.  No  one  ever  doubted  his  integrity  and  even 
his  open  enemies  would  have  trusted  him. 

So  he  sold  out  his  herds  and  went  to  Springfield, 
Mass.,  to  act  as  agent  for  the  wool-growers.  But  the 


John  Brown  to  the  Rescue  309 

mill-owners  did  not  like  John  Brown.  When  they 
bought  wool  of  him  and  asked  him  to  put  No.  2  wool  in 
No.  i  sacks  and  label  it  No.  i,  shipping  it  to  certain 
places  for  them,  he  perversely  declined  to  do  it.  They 
could  not  manipulate  him,  and  they  soon  invented  a 
plan  by  which  they  could  do  without  him.  They  sent 
agents  of  their  own  straight  to  Brown's  clients  in  Ohio 
and  they  represented  that  John  Brown  was  paying  a  deal 
more  attention  to  educating  negroes  than  to  selling 
wool.  More  than  this,  he  had  actually  secreted  runaway 
slaves  in  his  warehouse ;  and  on  one  occasion  when 
officers  were  close  upon  the  track  of  a  fugitive,  the  black 
man  had  been  sewn  up  in  a  sack  of  wool  and  shipped  off 
by  freight. 

The  worst  about  these  accusations  was  they  were 
founded  on  fact ;  and  so  plausibly  was  the  plea  put  forth 
that  John  Brown  was  not  trustworthy,  that  the  farmers 
— ever  suspicious — ceased  to  have  faith  in  him,  and  sold 
their  wool  to  those  wily  agents  who  paid  such  good  prices 
for  it. 

In  short,  the  mill-owners  set  about  to  ruin  Brown's 
business,  and  they  succeeded.  They  had  no  hazy  ven 
tures  on  hand  for  assisting  fugitives,  and  were  guiltless  of 
any  attempt  to  educate  either  white  or  black  folks;  they 
attended  strictly  to  their  own  affairs,  and  against  them 
Brown,  with  his  limited  capital  and  divided  mind,  could 
not  compete. 

But  the  restless  years  had  brought  Brown  into  ac 
quaintanceship  with  some  strong  men.  Abolition  in 
stincts  took  him  to  Boston  occasionally,  and  there  he  met 
a  young  man  by  the  name  of  F.  B.  Sanborn  who  pre 
sented  him  to  Theodore  Parker,  Wendell  Phillips,  and 
Dr.  Cabot. 

Gerritt  Smith  had  been  introduced  to  him  by  letter 


310  Time  and  Chance 

from  Mrs.  Brydges,  and  when  it  became  certain  that  he 
would  have  to  give  up  his  business  at  Springfield,  Smith 
offered  to  turn  over  to  him  a  large  tract  of  land  in  the 
Adirondack  Mountains  to  be  parceled  out  to  colored 
men.  And  Brown's  business  was  to  show  these  refugees 
how  to  farm  and  to  teach  them  in  various  ways. 

Very  gladly  did  Brown  accept  the  offer.  He  moved 
to  North  Elba,  N.  Y.,  and  the  old  pioneer  life  that  he 
knew  so  well  was  again  taken  up.  There  were  many  dis 
couragements,  for  the  ignorant  blacks,  used  to  the  soft 
ways  of  the  cities  where  they  had  acted  as  coachmen, 
barbers  and  house  servants,  could  not  quickly  adapt 
themselves  to  the  rough,  outdoor  life  of  the  mountains, 
and  very  often  they  left  their  would-be  helper  and  re 
turned  to  voluntary  bondage. 

John  Jr.,  Jason  and  Owen  had  moved  back  to  the 
Western  Reserve  and  were  engaged  in  farming  and  stock 
raising.  Part  of  the  time  their  father  was  with  them,  and 
part  of  the  time  he  was  at  North  Elba. 

And  all  these  years  Margaret  Brydges  held  fast  to  her 
one  idea  that  the  slaves  must  be  made  free.  She  had  not 
only  used  the  income  from  her  fortune,  but  had  en 
croached  on  the  principal.  Her  house  was  a  refuge  and 
a  school,  and  Ruth  Crosby  was  her  faithful  friend  and 
coadjutor.  But  never  once  in  all  these  years  had  John 
Brown  and  Margaret  met. 

So  the  years  went  hurrying  by  —  years  of  constant  en 
deavor,  contracting  finances,  of  disappointment,  of  sorrow 
and  defeat. 

But  the  battle  for  principle  ever  has  its  compensation, 
and  the  bond  of  friendship  that  held  these  faithful 
workers  in  freedom's  cause  was  of  a  kind  unsullied  by 
any  selfish  taint.  It  was  a  friendship  noble  and  sincere ; 
and  the  weekly  letter  from  Margaret  Brydges  to  John 


A  Little  Matter  of  Diplomacy  511 

Brown  was  to  him  a  consolation  and  a  solace  for  all  the 
ills  and  stings  of  fortune.  As  we  have  already  seen,  five 
of  John  Brown's  sons  had  followed  the  tide  of  emigration 
to  Kansas.  Difficulty  had  come  to  them ;  they  had 
written  to  their  old  poverty-stricken  father  at  North  Elba 
for  help.  He  was  poorer  than  they,  yet  he  had  friends 
who  believed  in  him,  and  the  friends  one  makes  in  ad 
versity  can  always  be  relied  upon. 

He  made  six  copies  of  that  appeal  from  his  sons,  and 
sent  these  six  copies  to  six  friends.  It  was  not  long  be 
fore  he  had  arms  for  fifty  men  and  over  a  thousand  dollars 
in  cash. 

Leaving  his  wife  and  family  of  five  children  at  North 
Elba,  he  took  Oliver,  his  oldest  boy  then  at  home,  and 
started  for  Kansas. 

And  now  we  see  him  at  his  destination  seated  at  the 
supper  table  with  the  baby  on  his  knee. 

"  And  so  you  have  no  cattle  at  all  ?  "  mused  the  old 
man. 

"  Not  a  horn!  "  answered  Jason. 

"  And  no  horses,  I  believe  you  said  ?  " 

"  Not  a  hoof,  save  that  one  old  horse  there." 

"  And  you  are  quite  sure  that  this  Carver  you  have 
been  telling  me  of  is  the  man  who  ran  them  off  ? " 
'  Yes,  we  are  sure  of  it." 

"  Ah,  well,  I  will  go  and  see  Captain  Carver  to 
morrow." 


CHAPTER   V 

A   LITTLE   MATTER   OF   DIPLOMACY 

WHENEVER  two  men  meet  for  the  first  time  there 
is  usually  a  swift,  unspoken  understanding,  and 
one  acknowledges  the  other  master. 


312  Time  and  Chance 

Captain  Carver  was  large,  stout,  good-natured,  glib  of 
tongue,  sociable,  and  ready.  But  now  his  wit  did  not 
seem  to  fit,  his  jokes  fell  flat,  and  his  loud,  easy  ways 
were  out  of  keeping.  He  sat  on  the  porch  and  tilted 
nervously  on  one  leg  of  the  chair:  "  So  you  are  from 
York  State,  be  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  visitor. 

"  What  part  o'  York  State  ?  " 
'  The  northern." 

"  Been  here  long  ?     'Scuse  my  askin'." 
I  have  just  arrived.     I  came  purposely  to  see  you." 

Then  there  was  a  pause.  Captain  Carver  coughed, 
spat,  removed  a  big  chew  of  tobacco  and  replaced  it  with 
a  larger  one.  He  handed  the  pouch  of  tobacco  towards 
the  visitor,  who  refused  it  with  a  half  smile. 

"  Hem — ah — a'  purpose  to  see  me  ? " 

"Yes." 

"And  where  hev  I  saw  you  before  —  your  face  is 
familiar!  " 

"  You  never  saw  me  before." 

"  And  you  said,  I  b'lieve,  that  you  did  not  care  to — 
talk  about  your  errand  till  after  dinner." 
'  That  is  what  I  said." 
'  Wall,  the  horn  has  blowed,  less  go  in." 

The  visitor  was  a  smoothshaven,  elderly  man.  He 
wore  a  seedy  suit  of  black  and  a  black  stock.  He  car 
ried  a  cotton  umbrella,  and  about  his  neck  was  a  black 
tape,  fastened  to  a  silver  watch. 

Captain  Carver  felt  strangely  uneasy  in  the  presence  of 
this  self-contained  stranger;  he  would  have  liked  to 
throttle  him  on  the  spot;  he  half  believed  the  visitor  was 
a  preacher,  so  he  dared  not  swear;  his  language  had  to  be 
curtailed,  and  was  awkward  in  the  extreme.  After  dinner 
the  guest  and  host  again  moved  out  on  the  veranda. 


A  Little  Matter  of  Diplomacy  313 

"  Stranger,  you  are  a  perfect  gent,  but  your  manner  is 
dam  queer — leastways  peculiar,  that  is,  see  ?  no  'fense. 
Now  tell  me  what  you  want !  " 

"  Have  you  a  room  where  we  can  talk  together  by  our 
selves  ?  " 

'  T  aint  necessary,  is  it  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

Carver  now  evidently  thought  he  had  a  lunatic  to  deal 
with  and  deemed  it  best  to  humor  him.  He  led  the  way 
into  a  little  musty  parlor  and  threw  open  the  window. 
The  visitor  followed  and  closed  the  door. 

'  My  name  is  Brown.     Five  of  my  sons  live  across  the 
line  in  Kansas,  and  as  you  drove  away  their  cattle,  I  have 
come  to  see  about  getting  them  back." 
'  Who  drove  away  their  cattle  ?  " 

"  You." 

"  It  's  a  lie." 

"  Sit  down,  please,  we  had  better  be  calm  about  this 
matter." 

"  Did  you  say  I  stole  those  cattle  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  If  you  was  n't  an  old  man,  I  'd  kill  you." 
'  You  need  not  mind  my  age!  " 

Carver  sat  down,  visibly  agitated,  and  very  much  at  a 
disadvantage  in  parleying  with  John  Brown. 

"  Now,  you  took  fourteen  head  of  cattle  and  twelve 
head  of  horses  belonging  to  my  sons  — " 

"  You  are  a  liar,  and  a  sneaking,  miserable  Yankee 
lawyer — I  see  through  you — now,  I  '11  give  you  five  min 
utes  to  climb  out  o'  here!  " 

"  But  I  'm  not  going!  " 

"Then  I  '11  kill  you." 

"  That  will  prevent  my  being  back  on  the  other  side  of 
the  river  at  three  o'clock!  " 


Time  and  Chance 

"  What  of  it,  old  Yank  ?" 

'  Why,  if  I  'm  not  back  there  at  three  o'clock,  my 
men  will  come  across  and  hang  you !  " 

Ha,  ha,  hang  me,  will  they !  why  I  Ve  full  twenty 
men  about  this  ranch,  all  armed !  " 

"  And  if  you  had  twice  twenty,  my  posse  could  scattei 
them  all,  release  every  slave  you  have,  burn  your  build' 
ings  and  hang  you  beside — all  before  sundown." 

You  say  you  have  to  git  back  by  three  o'clock  ?  " 
"  Yes." 

'  Wall,  go  now !  " 

Will  you  return  those  cattle  and  horses  you  took  ?  " 
Old  man,  let  's  be  decent  now — 'fore  God,  I  Ve  took 
no  stock  from  no  one." 

"  But  you  have  thousands  of  acres  of  land  here.  You 
have  hundreds  of  cattle  in  these  valleys  and  hills,  and  you 
have  whole  herds  of  horses.  It  will  be  no  hardship  for 
you  to  return  this  stock!  " 

Wall  now,  Brown — it  's  jest  possible — jest  barely 
possible  that  some  o'  your  stock  got  accidentally  mixed 
with  ourn — and  if  you  air  sure  of  it,  dead  sure,  why,  as 
an  honest  man,  I  'm  bound  to  return  'em.  Does  that 
satisfy  you  ?  " 

'  That  is  satisfactory." 
'  Wall,  shake  then." 

So  they  shook  hands.  And  the  free  and  easy  banter 
of  Captain  Carver  came  back. 

The  two  men  walked  out  on  the  veranda,  and  the  Cap 
tain  said  he  supposed  there  was  no  need  of  offering  Mr. 
Brown  whiskey  and  Mr.  Brown  said  there  was  no  need. 
Then  Captain  Carver  called  to  a  colored  man,  who  was 
working  in  the  yard  and  ordered  him  to  saddle  a  couple 
of  horses. 

"  You  see,  Parson  Brown,  your  stock  is  all  mixed  in 


A  Little  Matter  of  Diplomacy  315 

and  scattered  hell-west  and  crooked  ways,  so  you  '11  jest 
have  to  pick  out  what  's  handy.      Is  that  all  right  ?  " 

"  Yes,  that  's  all  right." 

"  Now  you  air  a  perfect  gent — it  's  a  pleasure  to  do 
business  with  a  man  like  you — we  've  all  got  to  give 
and  take  a  little  in  this  world.  Am  I  right,  Elder 
Brown  ?  " 

'  Yes,  you  are  surely  right." 

They  mounted  the  horses  and  rode  up  the  valley  for 
two  or  three  miles,  followed  by  three  negro  boys  on 
mustangs.  Brown  picked  out  fourteen  head  of  cattle 
and  twelve  horses,  and  the  boys  were  ordered  to  cut  the 
stock  out  from  the  herd  and  corral  them. 

You  've  got  to  git  back  by  three,  I  b'lieve,"  said  the 
Captain  with  a  forced  smile. 

"  Yes." 

I  would  n't  have  you  miss  it  for  a  good  deal — now, 
Brown,  you  really  did  not  think  you  scared  me  ? " 
'  No,  you  are  a  man  not  easily  frightened!  " 
'  Right  you  air — put  'er  thar." 

They  shook  hands,  as  their  horses  trotted  along  side  by 
side. 

"  And  the  stock — will  you  come  for  'em  ?  " 

"  I  would  like  you  to  deliver  the  horses  and  cattle  at 
the  grove  across  the  river  to-morrow  morning  at  eight 
o'clock." 

"  Wall,  for  old  'quaintance  sake,  I  '11  do  it.  To-mor 
row  at  eight  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

By  this  time  they  were  back  at  the  house.  They  dis 
mounted,  again  shook  hands,  and  the  old  man  took  his 
umbrella  and  departed  ;  promising  on  the  other's  request 
to  call  whenever  he  happened  that  way. 

The  next  morning  at  eight  o'clock,   Owen  and  Jason 


316  Time  and  Chance 

found  the  fourteen  head  of  cattle  and  the  twelve  horses 
at  the  grove,  all  exactly  as  promised. 


CHAPTER    VI 

A   SHERIFF   INTERVIEWED 

THERE  was  a  great  jubilee  when  the  cattle  and  horses 
came  trooping  back  to  Brownsville.  To  be  sure, 
the  cattle  were  not  quite  so  good  as  the  ones  that  had 
been  lost,  but  the  horses  were  better.  These  were  all 
unbroken  steeds  and  there  was  quite  a  time  taming  them, 
but  this  only  served  for  sport  to  the  hardy  young  men. 

Plowing  was  begun  at  once  for  fall  wheat.  Seed  and 
implements  and  provisions  had  to  be  bought,  so  two  of 
the  brothers  started  for  Lawrence,  each  duly  armed  with 
a  Sharpe's  rifle,  two  pistols  and  a  dirk.  The  father  in 
sisted  that  these  arms  should  be  carried  in  plain  view 
"  for  the  moral  effect." 

The  young  men  were  everywhere  treated  with  great 
respect,  and  the  storekeepers  of  Lawrence  welcomed 
them  as  old  friends  as  soon  as  they  saw  that  there  was 
money  to  pay  for  their  purchases. 

A  corral  was  built  of  strong  poles  and  every  night  the 
stock  was  driven  in  and  a  man  placed  on  watch ;  a  double 
bar  was  placed  on  the  door,  and  loop  holes  arranged  in 
the  house  that  commanded  every  direction.  But  no  one 
came  near  to  molest  them. 

Politically,  the  Territory  was  in  the  hands  of  the  Pro- 
Slavery  men,  for  the  March  election  had  placed  them  in 
power.  And  wherever  the  authorities  were  called  upon 
to  decide  disputes  between  two  men,  if  one  happened  to 
be  a  Free-State  man,  he  surely  got  the  worst  of  it.  The 
threat  was  continually  being  made  that  the  Territory 


A  Sheriff  Interviewed  317 

would  soon  be  so  hot  that  no  Abolitionist  could  stay 
there.  Several  Free-State  men  had  been  arrested  on  the 
charge  of  attending  Abolitionist  meetings,  this  act  hav 
ing  been  made  a  crime  by  the  bogus  legislature.  These 
men  had  been  flogged  and  ordered  to  leave  the  1  erritory 
at  once;  and  a  good  many  had  complied.  It  is  a  note 
worthy  fact,  however,  that  the  men  who  were  thus  mo 
lested  were  inoffensive  individuals  and  were  always  taken 
at  a  disadvantage.  Life  is  sweet,  and  the  Missourians, 
who  made  up  the  Sheriff's  posse,  did  not  care  to  run  up 
against  men  who  might  kill. 

Hearing  of  these  arrests  that  were  being  made  near 
him,  John  Brown  wrote  a  letter  to  Sheriff  Jones,  who 
lived  at  Westport,  Missouri — where  he  was  also  post 
master — stating  that  the  writer  had  attended  Abolition 
meetings  at  Osawatomie,  and  if  his  act  was  against  the 
law,  the  Sheriff  was  invited  to  come  out  and  arrest  him. 

To  this  letter,  the  Sheriff,  with  a  fine  sense  of  humor, 
replied  that  if  Brown  considered  himself  guilty  of  break 
ing  the  laws  he  would  better  come  in  and  give  himself  up. 
The  Sheriff  then  added  a  P.  S.  to  the  effect  that  he  had 
his  eye  on  the  Browns  and  would  look  after  their  case 
later. 

Within  a  week  after  this  Jason  was  out  on  the  prairie 
only  a  mile  from  home  and  was  fired  at  by  someone 
secreted  in  the  slough  grass.  The  bullet  passed  through 
his  hat  and  he  dropped  to  the  ground,  which  act  prob 
ably  saved  his  life,  for  had  he  started  to  run,  other  shots 
would  probably  have  been  fired. 

That  same  day  three  other  Anti-Slavery  men  in  the 
neighborhood  were  fired  on.  Two  of  these  men  were 
killed  outright  by  the  unseen  foes,  but  the  third  man, 
Charles  Dow  by  name,  who  was  at  work  in  a  field,  started 
to  run  for  his  wagon  which  was  near.  In  this  wagon 


318  Time  and  Chance 

was  a  Sharpe's  rifle,  and  the  assailants  doubtless  knew 
the  fact;  and  they  knew  further  that  if  Dow  got  that 
rifle  in  his  hands,  he  would  at  once  go  gunning  for  them. 

So,  out  of  a  gully  arose  one,  Franklin  Coleman,  a  well- 
known  Pro-Slavery  bully,  and  he  ran  with  gun  in  hand 
to  head  off  Dow.  It  was  a  race  for  life.  They  were  ap 
proaching  the  wagon  from  nearly  opposite  directions,  but 
seeing  that  Dow  would  reach  the  wagon  first,  Coleman 
raised  his  shotgun  and  from  only  fifty  feet  away,  sent  a 
charge  of  slugs  into  the  breast  of  young  Dow,  who  fell 
dead  without  a  groan. 

From  a  hillock  a  hundred  yards  away,  Dow's  partner, 
Jacob  Branson,  witnessed  the  entire  affair. 

Dow  and  Branson  lived  together,  and  their  house  was 
about  twelve  miles  southeast  of  Brownsville.  It  was  ten 
o'clock  that  night  before  news  of  the  murder  reached  the 
Browns,  and  then  only  accidentally,  by  a  herdsman  who 
was  looking  for  stray  cattle. 

Dow  had  been  a  universal  favorite  among  the  Anti- 
Slavery  men.  He  was  a  young  man — barely  twenty. 
He  was  frank,  generous  and  good-natured  to  a  fault,  and 
his  death  came  to  the  Browns  as  a  personal  sorrow. 

"  And  where  is  Branson  ?  "  asked  John  Brown  of  the 
man  who  brought  the  news. 

"  Why,  at  home,  I  s'pose." 

"  Alone  ?" 

"  No,  his  wife  and  children  are  there." 

"  No  one  else  ?  " 

"  No  one  but  the  dead  man.  Branson  and  his  wife 
carried  the  corpse  to  the  house,  and  I  saw  it  there  two 
hours  ago,  all  laid  out  in  his  Sunday  clothes." 

"  And  you  left  Branson  and  his  wife  there  alone  ?  " 
'  Yes,  they  are  going  to  bury  Dow's  body  to-morrow." 

"  But  they  will  never  do  it." 


A  Sheriff  Interviewed  319 

"  Why  ?" 

"  Branson  himself  will  be  dead." 

What  makes  you  say  so  ?  " 

'  He  witnessed  this  murder — he  saw  Coleman  do  the 
deed,  and  the  murderers  cannot  afford  to  let  him  live. 
Another  thing,  the  shooting  to-day  shows  that  there  is 
an  organized  effort  to  drive  us  out.  If  we  go  to  Bran 
son's,  we  may  be  in  time  to  save  him." 

"  For  his  wife's  sake,  go  at  once,"  exclaimed  Ellen. 

"  And  leave  you  here  ?  "  asked  Jason. 
'  We  can  fight,"  said  Ellen,  "  we  will  bar  the  door, 
and  have  a  rifle  at  every  port-hole." 

'  No,  Jason  and  John  must  stay  with  you  and  the 
children — no  doubt  there  are  enemies  around  the  house 
now,  watching  our  movements— the  rest  of  us  will  go — 
boys,  saddle  the  horses!  " 

The  ranchman  who  had  brought  the  news,  suddenly 
forgot  his  stray  stock  and  was  in  for  the  adventure. 

In  ten  minutes'  time  the  six  horsemen,  each  heavily 
armed,  were  riding  at  a  smart  trot  in  the  direction  of 
Branson's  ranch. 

It  was  the  twenty-first  of  November  and  the  night  was 
dark  and  cold ;  a  slight  drizzling  rain  was  falling.  An 
hour  had  passed  and  they  were  nearing  the  house. 
Twinkling  lights  were  seen  and  soon  pistol  shots  could 
be  heard  echoing  like  small  cannon  across  the  silent  night. 

The  men  dismounted  and  leaving  the  six  horses  in 
charge  of  Oliver,  they  separated,  twenty  feet  apart,  and 
walked  briskly  forward. 

On  approaching  the  house  they  found  it  surrounded  by 
a  cordon  of  mounted  men,  a  full  score  in  number. 
Salmon  cocked  his  gun  and  drew  a  bead  on  a  horseman 
who  stood  out  against  the  sky,  not  fifty  yards  away.  In 
a  whisper  he  begged  his  father  for  permission  to  shoot, 


320  Time  and  Chance 

but  he  was  ordered  to  put  down  his  gun.  Then  he  wanted 
to  kill  the  horse — it  would  create  a  panic!  But  no,  John 
Brown  would  not  have  it.  The  five  men  withdrew  into 
a  thicket  to  consult. 

'  Let  each  one  of  us  pick  his  man — that  will  drop  five 
of  them,  and  the  rest  will  likely  scamper.  Then  as  they 
run  we  can  get  a  few  more — it  's  the  only  way,"  said 
Owen. 

'  No,  if  we  shoot,  they  will  kill  Branson.  It  's  barely 
possible  they  only  want  to  arrest  him,  and  scare  him 
thoroughly,  then  order  him  out  of  the  country,"  said 
Frederick. 

"  I  think  Fred  is  right,"  said  the  father.  '  We  must 
shed  no  blood  unless  it  is  positively  necessary.  If  they 
are  taking  Branson  away  we  will  rescue  him,  and  we  may 
get  him  away  alive ;  but  if  we  begin  to  shoot  now,  we 
spoil  our  one  chance  of  saving  him  !  " 

"  Fall  in !  "  came  a  clear,  ringing  voice  from  the  house 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  away. 

The  clouds  went  hurrying  across  the  sky  and  for  an  in 
stant  the  moon  shone  through  a  rift.  The  horsemen  had 
broken  their  circle  and  were  coming  down  the  slope  from 
the  house  in  a  bunch.  Their  horses  were  walking,  and 
there  was  no  disorder  or  hilarity  in  their  movements. 
This  absence  of  drunkenness  convinced  old  man  Brown 
that  it  was  a  Sheriff's  posse,  acting  under  the  leadership 
of  a  cool  head. 

'  Lay  low,  boys,  cock  your  guns,  and  under  no  condi 
tions  shoot  until  they  do.  At  the  first  sign  they  give  of 
fight,  pour  in  the  lead  on  'em  and  kill  as  many  as  you  can  ! ' ' 

The  place  where  they  crouched  was  a  hazel  patch,  not 
ten  feet  from  the  roadway,  that  was  here  lined  on  both 
sides  by  the  low  bushes.  The  approaching  horsemen 
were  only  a  hundred  yards  away — seventy-five — fifty — 


A  Sheriff  Interviewed  321 

Old  man  Brown  had  left  his  rifle  in  the  bushes  and 
crawled  out  and  lain  flat  down  in  the  road. 

As  the  gray  horse  of  the  leader  of  the  party  was  almost 
upon  him,  he  arose  like  a  shadow  and  called  :  "  Halt !  " 

The  horses  evidently  knew  the  word,  for  they  halted 
with  a  jerk,  and  the  gray  horse  shied  as  his  master  at 
tempted  to  draw  a  pistol. 

The  first  man  who  raises  a  gun  dies — my  men  are 

lying  all  about  here,  with  cocked  rifles  drawn  on  you!  " 

'  What  do  you  want,  anyway  ?  "  civilly  asked  the  leader 

of  the  party,  who  had  now  gotten  his  horse  back  into  the 

road. 

'  Who  are  you  ?  "  asked  Brown. 

Me  ?  I  'm  Sheriff  Jones  on  official  business,  and  neigh 
bor,  I  '11  tell  you,  you  are  doing  a  mighty  serious  thing 
in  stopping  me — please  step  aside  and  let  us  pass." 
'  No  sir,  I  do  not  let  you  pass  — 

'  Well,  this  is  funny,"  laughed  the  Sheriff,  "  but  what 
do  you  want  ?  are  you  crazy,  or  a  beggar  or  what !  What 
the  devil  are  you  doing  out  at  this  time  of  night,  any 
way  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  alone — my  men  can  kill  every  one  of  you 
in  ten  seconds,  if  I  give  the  word — here,  Salmon,  hold 
your  rifle  on  Mr.  Jones,  and  move  out  in  the  road!  " 

A  tall  form  arose  and  the  moon  sent  a  gleam  of  light 
across  the  gun  barrel  that  was  pointed  straight  at  the 
breast  of  Jones. 

"  Don't  shoot!  don't  shoot!"  pleaded  Jones,  in  a 
trembling  voice. 

'  Now,  where  is  Branson  ?  "  demanded  John  Brown. 
"  Here  I  am,"  came  a  voice  from  the  center  of  the 
group  of  horsemen. 

'  Ride  forward,  Branson." 
"  I  can't — I  'm  tied  and  a  man  is  leading  my  mule." 


322  Time  and  Chance 

'  For  Christ  sake,  hack  there,  turn  that  mule  loose  and 
give  the  brute  a  kick  to  send  it  forward,  I  am  looking 
down  a  gun,"  groaned  Sheriff  Jones. 

There  was  a  push,  a  kick,  a  "  gee-up,"  a  damn,  and 
forward  came  the  mule. 

"  Hold  your  rifle  on  Jones,  Salmon,  and  bore  him 
through  the  heart  if  a  man  in  the  line  makes  a  move." 

Brown  took  hold  of  the  lariat  that  was  around  the 
mule's  neck  and  led  the  animal  into  the  bushes. 

'  Hold  your  bead  on  him,  Salmon  !  steady,  boys,  don't 
shoot  unless  they  try  it  first !  Now,  Jones!  Forward-d-d 
m-m-march!  !  " 

The  posse  moved  forward  as  one  rider.  The  horses 
began  to  trot, — then  galloped  and  soon  the  sounds  that 
came  back  on  the  night-wind  told  that  they  had  broken 
into  a  furious  run.  Old  man  Brown  put  his  car  to  the 
ground :  the  fast  receding  hoof-beats  were  a  mile  away. 


CHAPTER    VII 

THE   BAPTISM    OF   BLOOD 

TWO  men  went  back  to  bring  up  the  horses,  and  they 
found  Oliver  full  of  taunt  because  the  Sheriff's  posse 
were  allowed  to  escape  whole. 

Branson's  feet  had  been  tied  under  the  mule's  belly, 
and  his  hands  fastened  behind  his  back.  The  thongs 
were  quickly  cut,  and  the  party  returned  to  the  house, 
where  the  man's  wife  was  found  lying  on  the  floor  in  a 
dead  faint,  the  four  little  children  frantic  with  fear. 
When  the  woman  recovered  her  senses  and  found  her 
husband  alive,  he  seemed  to  her  like  one  raised  from  the 
dead. 

Owen's  bachelor  experiences  had  made  him  an  expert 


The  Baptism  of  Blood  323 

cook,  and  putting  on  an  apron  he  proceeded  to  do  the 
honors.  A  good  fire  was  soon  crackling  in  the  fire-place, 
and  ere  long  bacon  was  sizzling  in  a  spider  and  the  coffee 
pot  sputtering. 

Salmon  set  the  table  and  the  sly  antics  that  he  and 
Owen  indulged  in  set  the  hysterical  Mrs.  Branson  into  a 
laughing  fit;  the  children  looked  on  with  big,  open, 
wondering  eyes,  while  Mr.  Branson  forgot  the  deep  red 
marks  about  his  wrists  and  smilingly  begged  everybody 
"  to  make  themselves  to  hum." 

When  this  midnight  dinner  was  ready,  John  Brown 
offered  a  solemn  prayer,  and  all  sat  down.  They  ate  with 
zest,  and  the  young  men  were  inclined  to  joke  and  tell 
stories ;  for  we  never  are  so  gay  as  after  work  well  done. 
The  sudden  change  from  direst  calamity  to  security  also 
had  a  peculiarly  stimulating  effect  on  the  man  and  his 
wife;  gratitude  to  their  rescuers  and  joy  for  their  deliver 
ance  filled  their  hearts  ;  they  thought  not  of  the  morrow. 

Bill,  the  ranchman,  made  awkward  jokes  and  imitated 
the  pleading  voice   of  Sheriff  Jones  when  he  begged, 
'  Don't  shoot!  don't  shoot!  " 

The  meal  being  over,  the  hilarious  Bill  picked  up  an 
accordeon  and  proceeded  to  do  a  double  shuffle;  his 
clinking  spurs  on  the  sanded  floor  and  the  squeaky  ac 
cordeon  making  music  that  was  not  classic  but  merry 
withal. 

Old  man  Brown  arose  and  threw  open  a  door  that  led 
into  an  adjoining  room.  The  room  was  dark,  but  the 
clouds  having  drifted  away,  the  moon  was  shining  full  and 
free  through  the  open  window.  The  pale  rays  fell  on  the 
calm,  white  face  of  Charles  Dow.  There  he  lay,  the  stiff 
hands  folded  across  the  breast,  where  the  cold  lead  of 
hate  had  gone  home.  The  music  stopped,  the  dancing 
ceased,  and  the  dancer  gasped,  "  My  God!  I  forgot." 


324  Time  and  Chance 

'  I  think  we  'd  better  go,"  said  the  old  man. 

But  you  will  not  leave  us — don't,  oh,  please  don't!  " 
cried  the  woman. 

'  No,  you  must  go,  too!  Branson,  hitch  your  team  to 
the  lumber  wagon,  you  must  all  go  with  us.  They  will 
be  back  for  you,  and  there  will  yet  be  blood  shed — the 
trouble  has  just  begun.  Don't  stare  so  at  me,  Branson, 
go  hitch  up  that  team — help  him,  Oliver;  you  too,  Fred." 

The  cover  of  the  plain  pine  box  was  screwed  down  and 
the  coffin  carried  out  and  placed  in  the  wagon. 

Strong  arms  carried  the  children  out,  the  fire  was 
banked,  the  lights  put  out,  and  the  ten-mile  march 
across  the  prairie  begun. 

It  lacked  an  hour  of  daylight  when  Brownsville  was 
reached. 

The  watchers  were  rejoiced  to  get  their  own  back  safe 
and  sound — rejoiced,  too,  to  think  that  they  had  accom 
plished  their  errand  and  rescued  the  imperiled  Branson 
without  bloodshed.  Even  that  the  dead  had  been  made 
safe  from  insult,  and  brought  away  to  be  given  a  decent 
burial,  was  a  cause  for  congratulation. 

After  the  news  had  been  given,  and  the  first  greetings 
were  over,  the  old  man  sought  to  repress  the  excess  of 
exultation. 

'  But  how  we  made  them  scamper,"  said  Salmon. 

"  Gently,  my  son!  The  issue  is  greater  than  any  of 
you  think,  and  before  peace  comes,  Kansas,  if  not  the 
entire  country,  will  be  baptized  with  blood!  " 

"What  's  that  ?  " 

Why,  look  you,  my  children,  all  of  you;  what  have 
we  done  to-night  ?  We  have  resisted  the  power  of  the 
State!  For  the  moment,  through  strategy,  we  have 
achieved  a  small  victory,  but  when  men  resist  the  law  of 
the  land  and  appeal  to  a  Higher  Law,  they  must  fight, 


The  Baptism  of  Blood  325 

aye,  must  fling  away  their  lives  if  necessary.     Will  you 
do  that  ? " 

We  will,  we  will !  " 

The  answer  came  back  clear  and  strong.  Enthusiasm 
was  in  the  air. 

'  Yes,  my  children — it  is  well  that  you  should  realize 
the  situation.  The  entire  country  —  the  world  is  now 
looking  to  Kansas!  Shall  slavery  exist  or  shall  it  not  ? 
Kansas  must  decide.  If  we  make  this  a  Free  State  there 
will  not  be  a  slave  in  the  United  States  in  five  years  from 
to-day.  If  we  are  defeated  and  Kansas  remains  as  it  is — a 
Slave  State — the  question  will  sleep  for  a  hundred  years. 
We  are  doing  God's  work,  and  if  we  falter  now,  all  the 
efforts  of  all  men  and  women  who  have  worked  fifty  years 
for  emancipation  will  go  for  naught !  The  whole  question 
is  focused  right  here  and  it  is  for  us  to  deal  with !  The 
time  is  ripe — we  have  struck  the  first  blow,  and  now  we 
must  fight !  " 

The  old  man  was  standing — his  voice  was  raised — his 
eyes  flashed  fire:  "  We  must  fight!  "  he  repeated. 

"  But  they  have  gone — can't  we  go  back  to  our  work 
and  live  in  peace,"  asked  Mrs.  Branson. 

"  No,  we  have  only  frightened  a  dozen  men,  and  that 
just  for  a  moment.  They  started  to  take  your  husband 
and  they  will  do  it  yet  if  they  can.  We  have  only 
angered  them,  and  I  doubt  not  at  this  moment  a  force  of 
two  hundred  men  is  being  collected  to  take  him,  and  also 
to  arrest  us  who  rescued  him.  This  force  will  be  here 
within  twenty-four  hours,  and  we  must  get  in  all  the 
Anti-Slavery  neighbors  and  stand  by  Branson  though 
blood  flows  like  water!  " 

There  was  no  time  for  further  talk.  A  horseman  dashed 
in  to  give  information  that  Branson's  house  and  barn  were 
burning  "  and  the  whole  family  probably  murdered." 


326  Time  and  Chance 

"  Not  exactly  murdered — here  we  are,  all  safe!"  re 
marked  Branson,  appearing  at  the  door. 

'  Thank  God,  but  your  house  and  barn  have  all  gone 
in  smoke." 

"  And  not  mine  alone,  evidently!  " 

Across  the  prairie  in  various  directions  could  be  seen 
the  dull  reflections  of  fires. 

'  You  see,"  continued  the  messenger,  "  I  'vc  never 
had  anything  to  say  on  this  slavery  matter,  and  the  Pros 
think  I  'm  with  'em,  because  I  'm  from  Tennessee. 
Sheriff  Jones  and  a  posse  came  to  my  house  last  night  and 
said  they  had  been  attacked  by  a  hundred  Yanks  and  a 
prisoner  taken  away  from  them  after  a  hard  fight.  They 
insisted  that  I  go  with  'em  and  rouse  all  the  Pros  in  the 
country ;  so  they  sent  me  and  two  other  fellows  off  in 
one  direction  and  I  slipped  off  here  to  you ;  messengers 
have  been  sent  to  Missouri  for  help  and  they  are  going 
to  drive  all  the  Free-State  men  out  of  the  Territory,  once 
for  all." 

Old  John  Brown  took  this  man's  excited  statements 
with  a  grain  of  salt.  He  knew  full  well  that  Sheriff 
Jones  would  organize  a  larger  posse  and  would  also  call 
on  the  "  Kansas  Militia  "  to  help  him  if  necessary.  This 
'  Kansas  Militia  "  was  made  up  of  Pro-Slavery  men  who 
lived  in  Kansas  and  of  all  the  Missourians  that  could  be 
mustered.  The  arms  and  ammunition  were  supplied  at 
the  expense  of  the  Territory — this  by  order  of  Governor 
Shannon  who  had  recently  been  appointed. 

It  was  now  daylight  and  three  of  the  young  men  went 
out  to  the  little  grove  near  by  to  dig  a  grave.  The 
women  were  busy  preparing  breakfast,  and  as  they 
worked  the  old  man  sat  out  on  a  log  and  sketched  with  a 
pencil  the  words:  "  C.  Dow — aged  20.  Murdered,  Nov. 
21,  1855,"  on  a  rough  oak  slab  and  began  carving  them 


The  Baptism  of  Blood  327 

out  with  a  jackknife.     And  as  he  bent  over  the  slab  his 
mind  was  busy,  and  these  were  his  thoughts: 

It  will  not  do  to  secrete  this  man  Branson — he  must 
be  brought  out  boldly — everyone  must  know  that  he  is 
in  my  keeping.  The  Pros  must  be  invited  to  take  him 
if  they  can,  and  those  who  wish  to  enroll  themselves  on 
the  Lord's  side  will  now  have  an  opportunity  to  do  so! 
I  '11  take  the  man  to  Lawrence  so  everyone  will  under 
stand — this  whole  affair  must  now  be  conducted  in  day 
light,  and  the  people  must  know  where  we  are  on  this 
issue.  We  stand  or  fall!  " 

Two  hours  after  this,  the  pine  box  containing  the  body 
of  Charles  Dow  was  carried  to  its  last  resting-place  in  the 
little  grove.  The  old  man  read  a  chapter  from  the  Bible, 
a  solemn  hymn  was  sung,  a  prayer  was  said,  the  grave 
was  filled  up,  mounded,  and  the  oaken  slab  placed  at  the 
head. 

The  little  company  returned  to  the  house  and  began 
carefully  testing  their  firearms. 

All  the  young  men  were  anxious  to  take  part  in  the 
impending  fight,  and  in  order  to  decide  who  should  stay 
and  protect  the  women  and  children,  lots  were  cast. 
Owen  and  Jason  were  destined  to  stay  behind.  They 
accepted  their  lot  with  rather  wry  faces. 

A  week's  provisions  were  packed  in  one  of  the  wagons 
and  the  men,  mounted  on  horseback,  moved  away  across 
the  cheerless  plain.  They  zigzagged  this  way  and  that, 
so  as  to  stop  at  as  many  houses  as  possible.  At  each 
place,  regardless  of  whether  the  settler  was  a  Southron 
or  a  Free-State  man,  there  was  told  the  brief  story  of  the 
murder  of  Dow,  the  arrest  of  Branson  and  the  fact  of  his 
rescue.  And  so  they  moved  on,  gathering  force  as  they 
traveled,  and  when  Lawrence  was  reached,  fully  a  hun 
dred  men  guarded  the  frightened  Branson. 


328  Time  and  Chance 

The  Pro-Slavery  capital  had  been  moved  from  Law 
rence  to  Lecompton,  on  account  of  Lawrence  being  made 
up  largely  of  Free-State  men.  There  was  a  rivalry  be 
tween  the  two  towns,  and  during  the  night  previous  to 
the  advent  of  the  Browns,  word  had  been  brought  that  a 
plan  was  on  foot  to  march  a  force  against  the  town  of 
Lawrence  and  "  wipe  it  off  the  face  of  the  earth."  This 
was  principally  on  account  of  a  newspaper  published  at 
Lawrence,  called  the  Herald  of  Freedom.  The  people 
were  thoroughly  frightened,  the  stores  were  all  closed  and 
barricaded,  and  the  hundred  and  fifty  men  who  made  up 
the  town  were  in  doubt  whether  to  fly,  fight  or  make  peace 
with  their  enemies  by  agreeing  to  cease  all  Anti-Slavery 
agitation. 

The  first  effect  of  the  advent  of  John  Brown's  com 
pany  was  one  of  great  rejoicing — here  was  a  body  of  men 
who  could  and  would  protect  them.  But  the  enthusiasm 
soon  turned  to  fear,  and  men  came  to  Brown  urging  him 
to  withdraw  at  once  and  take  Branson  with  him,  for  their 
presence  would  surely  bring  down  a  mob  on  the  place 
that  would  work  mad  ruin — a  drunken,  howling  mob  that 
would  spare  neither  man,  woman  nor  child. 

But  old  man  Brown  concluded  he  would  stay.  He 
practically  took  possession  of  the  place — he  called  upon 
the  young  editor — Holcomb  by  name,  who  had  brought 
the  town  into  disrepute  and  ordered  him  to  get  out  the 
"  hottest  Abolition  issue  that  ever  was  printed  ";  and 
the  young  editor  cheerfully  began  working  paste-pot, 
shears  and  pen  to  that  end.  All  people  who  did  not  be 
lieve  in  the  Free-State  issue  were  asked  to  leave.  None 
left,  but  two  men  who  had  made  speeches  from  the  hotel 
veranda,  disaffecting  the  people,  were  drummed  out  of 
town. 

Breastworks  were  thrown  up  on  all  sides,  cattle  driven 


The  Baptism  of  Blood  329 

inside,  and  preparations  made  to  withstand  a  siege.  The 
Pro-Slavery  men  began  to  arrive,  but  they  did  not  at 
tempt  to  enter  town.  They  came  over  the  Missouri  line 
on  foot,  in  wagons,  on  horses  and  mules.  They  were 
armed  with  shotguns,  squirrel  rifles,  pitchforks,  knives, 
and  clubs.  Evidently  they  had  whiskey,  and  to  spare, 
for  they  were  noisy  in  the  extreme,  but  always  kept  out 
of  range  of  the  Sharpe's  rifles  at  the  breastworks.  This 
mob  was  made  up  of  fully  two  thousand  men.  They 
formed  a  circle  around  the  town,  where  two  hundred  and 
fifty  determined  men  were  corraled. 

The  officers  of  the  besieging  party  could  not  bring 
their  half-drunken  men  up  to  the  sticking  point  where 
they  would  charge.  A  charge  meant  sure  and  certain 
death,  to  a  number,  at  least.  The  place  could  only  be 
taken  by  a  determined  assault,  and  as  the  Missourians 
would  not  charge,  and  to  starve  the  town  out  might  take 
weeks,  or  even  months,  they  adopted  another  scheme. 

A  messenger  was  sent  into  town  under  flag  of  truce, 
with  a  letter  from  Sheriff  Jones,  who  now  signed  himself 
"  General."  This  letter  was  to  the  effect  that  if  Bran 
son  and  the  editor  of  the  seditious  newspaper  were 
immediately  surrendered,  amnesty  would  be  granted 
to  all  others  and  the  besieging  force  withdrawn.  But  if 
these  "  liberal  conditions"  were  not  accepted,  one-half 
of  the  besieging  army  would  remain  and  the  other  would 
proceed  to  burn  and  destroy  all  property  belonging  to 
Free-State  men  in  Kansas,  and  the  welfare  of  the  wives 
and  children  of  all  Abolitionists  could  not  be  vouched 
for.  With  this  letter  was  a  personal  letter  from  Governor 
Shannon  to  Brown,  urging  him  to  accept  the  terms,  as 
the  men  could  not  much  longer  be  restrained. 

It  was  a  terrible  threat;  many  of  these  men  penned 
up  there  in  Lawrence  had  left  their  families  unpro- 


33°  Time  and  Chance 

tected,  and  now  a  fate  might  befall  them  worse  thai; 
death. 

Brown  thought  of  the  three  women  and  his  own  grand 
children  out  there  on  the  prairie.  To  be  sure,  two  brave 
men  guarded  them,  but  at  night  hay  could  easily  be 
piled  against  the  house  and  the  place  fired. 

He  read  the  terms  of  capitulation  the  second  time. 
He  read  the  threat,  and  then  he  wrote  a  civil  letter  ask 
ing  for  a  personal  interview  with  Governor  Shannon. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

DIPLOMACY    SUPPLEMENTED    BY   FORTY-FOUR 

GOVERNOR  SHANNON  was  a  slave  owner  and  in 
outspoken  sympathy  with  all  things  Southern. 
He  was  a  lawyer  by  profession,  a  stump  orator  of  no 
mean  repute,  and  as  unscrupulous  a  politician  as  ever 
wormed  himself  into  office.  But  the  natural  cleverness 
of  the  man  had  suffered  a  partial  eclipse  through  "  ex 
cessive  use  of  stimulants,"  as  the  Life  Insurance  Com 
panies  would  say.  Yet  the  tone  of  authority  was  in  his 
voice  and  it  was  plain  that  he  expected  his  wishes  to  be 
carried  out.  For  when  soft  diplomacy  failed  he  resorted 
to  a  bulldozing  manner  that  had  made  him  a  power  in 
the  court  room,  where  he  not  only  ruled  the  jury  but 
often  dictated  to  the  judge. 

Fully  believing  that  the  Yankee  forces  were  ready  to 
give  up,  he  was  anxious  to  go  in  and  add  to  his  laurels 
by  receiving  their  surrender.  Of  course,  an  insignificant 
force  of  less  than  three  hundred  could  not  successfully 
fight  two  thousand!  Yet  there  might  be  bloodshed,  and 
to  avert  this  and  win  without  the  shot  of  a  gun  would  be 
a  victory  that  the  entire  world  must  needs  applaud. 


Diplomacy  Supplemented  by  Forty-Four     331 

So  reasoned  Governor  Shannon.  He  put  on  a  clean 
shirt  and  a  high,  starched  collar;  he  stroked  his  high, 
white  hat  until  the  fur  shone  like  mica  in  the  clear  sun 
shine;  his  long,  black  broadcloth  was  caught  at  the  waist 
by  a  single  button,  and  with  one  hand  thrust  into  his 
waistcoat  and  the  other  holding  a  gold-headed  cane,  he 
came  jauntily  across  the  prairie,  followed  by  a  single 
small  negro,  tightly  dressed  in  blue,  with  rows  on  rows  of 
brass  buttons. 

Like  Goliath  he  strode  forward  in  full  sight  of  both 
armies.  But  unlike  Goliath,  Governor  Shannon  was  a 
gentleman — a  perfect  gentleman.  He  proposed  to  show 
the  Pro-Slavery  men  that  "  personal  presence  "  was  more 
than  a  shotgun,  and  he  would  teach  the  Yankees  that  a  true 
Southern  gentleman  was  neither  a  coward  nor  a  ruffian. 

Old  man  Brown  in  rusty  jeans  stood  out  on  a  rampart 
ready  to  receive  His  Excellency.  His  Excellency  made 
a  sign  that  Brown  should  approach ;  Brown  did  so,  and 
out  on  the  plain  before  the  eyes  of  all  they  shook  hands. 

"  You  are  in  charge,  I  believe,  of  the — the  rebel 
forces!  " 

'  Yes,  I  am  in  charge." 
And  your  name  ?  " 
Brown." 

"  Ah,  now,  friend  Brown — or  Captain  Brown,  should  I 
say  ? — Captain  Brown,  you  see  the  futility  of  holding  out 
longer.  I  am  glad  you  are  so  sensible — we  must  not 
shed  blood,  and  you  see  I  have  been  very  patient  in  not 
allowing  my  troops  to  rush  in  and  overpower  you.  But 
now  you  surrender  with  honor,  shall  we  conclude  arrange 
ments  right  here  in  the  presence  of  both  armies  ?  " 

"  I  think,  Your  Excellency,  we  had  better  arrange 
matters  in  the  privacy  of  a  room,  where  just  you  and  I 
will  be  together — we  have  no  writing  material  here!  " 


332  Time  and  Chance 

'  Very  well,  I  am  glad  you  are  not  inclined  to  be 
quarrelsome!  " 

The  Governor  patronizingly  took  the  arm  of  the  old 
man,  and  they  walked  up  over  the  earthworks  and  along 
the  main  street  of  the  village.  The  Governor  bowed  to 
right  and  left  as  they  walked,  lifting  his  hat  to  the  star 
ing  women  who  stood  with  babies  in  their  arms,  looking 
on  in  astonishment. 

The  two  men  reached  the  hotel,  walked  up  the  steps, 
and  Brown  led  the  way  into  a  room  that  had  been  pre 
pared.  The  little  brass-buttoned  nigger,  unconscious 
representative  of  all  the  trouble,  remained  in  the  hall 
way.  When  the  two  men  reached  the  room,  the  Gover 
nor  removed  his  hat,  set  his  cane  in  a  corner,  and  sat 
down  at  the  table  where  pens  and  paper  were  spread  out. 
He  began  writing  and  for  a  minute  nothing  was  heard 
but  the  rapid  scratching  of  a  pen  as  it  ran  in  great  attor 
ney  scratches  across,  again  and  again  across,  the  paper. 

What  are  you  writing  ?  "  asked  Brown,  after  near  a 
page  of  foolscap  had  been  covered. 

Don't  interrupt  me,  man — your  terms  of  surrender, 
of  course!  " 

And  scratch,  scratch,  scratch  went  the  lawyer's  pen. 
'  Had  n't  we  better  agree  on  terms  first  ?  " 

I  thought  we  had!  " 
'  Why  did  you  think  so  ?  " 

11  I  told  you  the  terms  and  you  made  no  objection  to 
them— there  is  an  extra  item  I  intend  to  put  in,  though!  " 
"  What  is  it  ?  " 

'  That  every  Yankee  in  Kansas  sign  an  agreement  not 
to  discuss  slavery  in  any  way,  nor  interfere,  either  by 
word  or  act,  with  the  institution." 

And  you  know  all  the  Yankees  ?  " 

I  have  a  list  here  in  my  pocket  of  every  Abolitionist 


Diplomacy  Supplemented  by  Forty-Four     333 

in  Kansas — this  is  a  Slave  State,  and  people,  who  will  not 
conform    to    our  laws,  will  be  gently    placed    over   the 
border — if  nothing  worse!  " 
"  And  beside  this — 

'  You  must  surrender  Holcomb,  the  editor,  and  Bran 
son,  the  murderer." 
'  The  murderer  ?  " 

'  Yes,  he  killed  his  partner,  Charles  Dow.    My  Sheriff 
arrested  Branson,  and  you  rescued  him — but  I  will  pardon 
you,  provided  you  promptly  give  the  men  up,  and  agree 
to  leave  the  State,  or  give  up  all  Abolition  agitation." 
Scratch,  scratch,  scratch  went  the  pen. 
'  But  suppose  I  reject  your  terms!  " 
'  You  will  not  be  so  foolish." 
"  Why  ?" 

'  Because  if  you  do  not  accept  my  terms,  one-half  of 
this  army  that   now  surrounds  you  will  go   burn    your 
barns,   ravish  your  women   and  kill  your  children;   the 
other  half  will  stay  here  and  hold  you  captive." 
"  Governor  Shannon!  " 

The  Governor  ceased  writing  with  a  start  and  looked 
up. 

"  Governor  Shannon,  I  refuse  your  terms!" 
'  Very  well,  then  I  will  go  back  and  tell  my  men  that 
you  refuse  to  accept  pardon." 

'  No,  you  do  not  leave  this  room!  " 
Brown  stepped  to  a  bureau,  opened  a  drawer,  and  took 
out  a  long,  navy  revolver.     Shannon  sank  back  into  his 
chair,  his  teeth  chattering  with  fear. 

"  What — what — what  are  you  doing! — don't  you  know 
I  am  here  under  a  flag  of  truce,  that  I  'm  Governor  of 
Kansas!  That  I  am  unarmed!  Have  you  forgotten  all 
rules  of  war  ?  " 

"  Yes,   Mister  Shannon,  I  have  forgotten  all  rules  of 


334  Time  and  Chance 

war — when  the  Governor  of  Kansas  talks  of  allowing  a 
mob  of  ruffians  to  ravish  women,  and  kill  children,  I  for 
get  all  rules  of  warfare.  I  intend  to  shoot  you  through 
the  head  with  this  pistol." 

The  click-click  of  the  cocking  pistol  echoed  through 
the  silence. 

'  Hold  on,   for   God's    sake,    you  would  not    murder 
me  ?  " 

'  Yes,  I  will  kill  you  !    Order  your  entire  mob  to  go  to 
their  homes,  or  I  will  kill  you,  as  sure  as  I  stand  here!  " 

4  But  they  will  not  go !  " 

"  Destroy  those  sheets  you  have  written,  and  write  as 
I  dictate." 

The  sheets  were  crumpled  into  balls,  tossed  aside,  and 
Governor  Shannon,  at  the  dictation  of  John  Brown, 
wrote  this  message : 

LAWRENCE,  Nov.  23d,  1855. 
To  GENERAL  JONES, 

Commanding: 

Terms  of  peace  fully  agreed  on.  Order  every  Missourian 
and  every  man  in  your  command,  to  return  home  at  once. 
Under  no  conditions  must  the  property  of  Free-State  men  be 
interfered  with. 

SHANNON, 

Governor. 

Scratch,  scratch,  scratch  went  the  pen — the  message 
was  duly  directed,  the  small,  buttoned  negro  was  called 
in  and  told  to  run  with  it  straight  to  General  Jones. 
Two  men  were  called  in  and  ordered  by  John  Brown  to 
hold  Governor  Shannon  prisoner. 

Old  man  Brown  went  down  and  stood  on  the  earth 
works,  watching  the  colored  youth  carrying  the  message 
across  to  the  camp  of  the  enemy.  He  saw  the  boy  dis 
appear  among  the  tents  and  wagons. 


Diplomacy  Supplemented  by  Forty-Four     335 

In  five  minutes  there  was  a  great  shout  and  the  whole 
camp  was  astir. 

'  The  damn  Yanks  have  accepted  our  terms — and  we 
are  off  for  home!  "  arose  the  shouts.  The  camp  was 
breaking  up,  and  in  half  an  hour,  the  Missourians  were 
streaming  across  towards  the  East — straight  for  home, 
glad  that  the  war  was  over  and  that  their  skins  were 
whole.  It  was  cold  and  uncomfortable  out  there, 
anyway. 

'  Hurrah  for  Shannon!  hip — hip — hurrah,  hip — hip 
—hurrah!  hip — hip— hurrah!!  " 

But  Shannon  was  still  a  prisoner.  He  signed  an  agree 
ment  to  recognize  all  Abolition  military  companies  as 
Kansas  Militia,  and  he  further  commissioned  "  J. 
Brown  "  as  Captain.  He  also  issued  an  order  to  Sheriff 
Jones,  not  to  interfere  with  Branson,  Holcomb,  or  any 
Free-State  man  on  account  of  any  offense  that  they 
were  supposed  to  have  committed. 

A  message  was  sent  out  with  word  that  Governor 
Shannon  wished  to  see  Sheriff  Jones.  The  Sheriff  came 
in  with  a  single  deputy — the  rest  of  his  force  having  de 
parted  ;  but  the  Sheriff  felt  fully  able  to  manage  Branson 
and  Holcornb,  provided  that  the  Yanks  did  not  interfere 
— and  of  course  they  would  not,  now  that  they  had  sur 
rendered. 

Sheriff  Jones  decided  he  would  just  handcuff  Branson 
and  Holcomb  together,  and  march  them  off  to  the  jail  at 
Lecompton.  He  entered  the  hotel,  swinging  the  brace 
lets. 

The  Governor  met  him  in  the  hallway  and  handed  him 
his  written  orders.  Jones  read  the  order  with  staring 
eyes  and  said : 

"  What  in  hell  is  this!  " 

Don't  swear  at  me,  Jones,  God  damn  you  ! — have  you 


336  Time  and  Chance 

no  respect  for  the  Governor  of  Kansas  ?  I  Ve  pardoned 
the  men,  that  's  what  I  have  done,  and  no  sneaking  cur 
by  the  name  of  Jones  can  dictate  to  me — Let's  have  a 
drink!  " 

So  they  adjourned  to  the  bar-room.  But  Governor 
Shannon's  gubernatorial  dignity  did  not  allow  him  to 
make  a  confidant  of  a  common  sheriff — the  secrets  of 
State  were  locked  up  in  his  own  breast. 

In  the  presence  of  Jones,  he  shook  hands  with  old 
Brown,  warning  him  that  in  future  he  must  go  a  little 
slow,  or  he  would  not  get  off  so  easy — in  fact,  he  could 
not  promise  Executive  clemency  for  any  further  offenses. 

And  then  Jones  was  sent  out  to  hire  a  livery  rig,  and 
he  and  the  Governor  rode  out  across  the  prairie  — across 
the  prairie  to  Lecompton. 

Still  this  did  not  end  the  matter. 


CHAPTER    IX 

MASKED    PEACE   AND    SMOTHERED    EMBERS 

AND  so    peace,   white-winged  peace  settled  down ;  a 
fall  of  snow  came  and  covered  the  prairies.     The 
settlers  busied   themselves    getting    in    wood   from    the 
groves  that  lined  the  ravines;  they  builded  houses  and 
barns,  and  made  ready  for  the  next  year's  planting. 

The  Browns  had  not  much  to  live  on  now — their  cash 
was  entirely  gone,  but  the  long  slough  grass  concealed 
numerous  rabbits  and  prairie  chickens,  and  occasionally  a 
deer  was  shot.  Old  John  Brown  was  now  known  as 
Captain  Brown,  and  he  showed  himself  a  captain  in  car 
pentry  and  house  building,  as  well  as  in  fighting  the 
Lord's  battles.  Whenever  new  settlers,  for  ten  miles 
around,  needed  assistance,  he  went  with  two  of  his  sons 


Masked  Peace  and  Smothered  Embers      337 

and  helped  at  the  building,  making  all  secure  against  the 
weather. 

Nothing  was  paid  for  such  service :  it  was  only  the 
neighborly  act  of  man  to  man,  and  the  kindness  that 
always  shows  itself  where  population  is  sparse  and  pov 
erty  pinches. 

Owen  and  Jason  went  to  Osawatomie  and  got  work  by 
the  day,  ditching  and  bridge-building,  and  this  served  to 
get  the  wherewithal  for  sundry  sacks  of  meal  and  beans 
and  sides  of  salt  pork,  that  were  carried  on  horseback 
across  the  prairie  to  Brownsville. 

And  so  the  winter  passed  in  peace,  and  the  V-shaped 
flocks  of  wild  geese  began  to  come  "  honking  "  from  the 
south.  The  ice  broke  up  in  the  creeks  and  little  rivulets 
ran  down  the  gentle  slopes,  filling  the  ponds  where  the 
wild  ducks  hovered.  On  the  hillocks  the  prairie  chickens 
drummed  and  strutted ;  from  the  hazel  patches  came  the 
whistle  of  "  Bob  White,"  calling  for  his  mate,  and  great 
flocks  of  plover  swirled  through  the  sunshine.  Sand-hill 
cranes — blue  and  white — marshaled  their  forces  out  on 
the  sun-kissed  plain,  placing  sentinels  that  watched  in 
tently  for  any  approaching  foe. 

But  with  the  cranes  and  the  geese,  came  other  immi 
grants — dozens  of  white-covered  wagons  from  the  north 
and  east  bringing  Free-State  men  and  their  families  to 
people  this  Garden  of  the  World.  And  this  sight  glad 
dened  the  heart  of  Captain  Brown — it  meant  Abolition 
votes  at  the  next  November  election.  To  this  election 
Brown  pinned  his  hopes;  if  the  actual  settlers  of  Kansas 
could  be  left  free  from  outside  interference,  they  would 
settle  the  question  of  slavery,  for  the  Free-State  settlers 
outnumbered  the  Pros  three  to  two.  Governor  Shannon 
had  made  a  written  agreement  to  keep  in  future  all  Mis- 
sourians  away  from  the  polls;  and,  although  Brown  had 


338  Time  and  Chance 

not  much  faith  in  the  pledge,  he  believed  that  the  settlers 
would  not  again  allow  such  a  flagrant  piece  of  injustice 
to  occur  as  that  which  had  placed  the  Pro-Slavery  men  in 
power. 

Brown  could  muster  nearly  a  hundred  men  in  case  of 
emergency,  and  these  could  probably  repel  any  force 
that  might  come  into  the  immediate  vicinity.  And  if 
the  other  districts  in  Kansas  did  the  same,  the  State 
would  be  secure.  So  now  there  was  nothing  to  do  but 
wait — work  and  wait.  He  still  toiled  away  at  the  car 
pentry,  often  getting  a  dollar  and  a  half  a  day. 

The  farmers  were  busy  plowing,  and  from  the  knolls 
one  could  see  teams  busy  in  the  fields  in  every  direction. 

But  besides  the  blackbirds  and  the  geese,  and  the 
cranes  and  the  emigrants  came  other  excursionists — a 
company  of  armed  men  from  Georgia.  They  built  a 
blockhouse  near  Osawatomie,  threw  up  breastworks,  and 
planted  cannon.  Old  man  Brown  went  over  to  see  them. 
He  chewed  a  straw  and  asked  questions  that  were  an 
swered  with  half  smiles  of  amusement  and  contempt. 
They  considered  this  Yankee  a  queer  old  farmer  whose 
bump  of  curiosity  was  abnormally  developed. 

But  the  old  farmer  got  at  the  facts,  which  were  these : 
The  troops  were  duly  commissioned  as  a  U.  S.  force, 
they  were  there  "  to  keep  the  peace,"  which  meant  that 
they  would  back  up  the  present  Pro-Slavery  Territorial 
Government,  and  carry  out  the  wishes  of  Governor 
Shannon. 

Soon  there  came  word  that  a  similar  company  of  men 
from  Alabama,  duly  armed,  uniformed,  and  commissioned 
as  U.  S.  troops,  were  encamped  near  Lecompton.  Gov 
ernor  Shannon  was  playing  a  waiting  game — he  would 
yet  get  his  revenge. 

A  grand  jury  at  Lecompton  met  and  found  true  in- 


Masked  Peace  and  Smothered  Embers     339 

dictments  against  Branson,  Holcomb,  the  "  Free-State 
Hotel,"  and  the  Herald  of  Freedom. 

To  indict  individuals  has  been  a  custom  since  the  days 
of  Cain,  but  to  indict  a  hotel  and  a  printery  was  a  new 
departure.  Branson  and  Holcomb  were  kidnapped  as 
quietly  one  night  as  a  weasel  captures  a  chicken.  They 
were  carried  off  to  the  jail  at  Lecompton. 

The  next  night  the  "  Free-State  Hotel  "  and  the  print 
ing  office  were  captured  by  the  Sheriff.  Both  buildings 
were  burned  to  the  ground,  and  the  houses  of  several 
leading  Abolition  citizens  were  searched  for  arms,  several 
stores  were  rifled  and  goods  confiscated  on  the  ground 
that  they  were  the  property  of  law-breakers. 

So  quietly,  thoroughly,  and  systematically  were  these 
plans  carried  out  that  the  citizens  had  no  time  to  defend 
themselves. 

Meantime,  Captain  Brown  was  at  work  in  an  out-of- 
the-way  spot  fifteen  miles  from  home,  with  Oliver,  help 
ing  build  a  house  for  a  newly  arrived  settler,  who  was 
down  sick  with  fever  and  ague.  Fred,  Owen,  and  Salmon 
were  earning  a  dollar  a  day  and  board,  bridge-building 
near  Hickory  Point. 

John,  Jr.,  and  Jason  were  at  home  farming.  They  had 
heard  of  the  arrest  of  Branson  and  Holcomb;  of  the 
burning  and  sacking  at  Lawrence;  they  had  also  heard 
that  warrants  were  out  for  their  own  arrest,  and  that  of 
their  father,  for  rescuing  Branson  from  the  Sheriff.  They 
did  not  know  just  where  their  father  was  working,  neither 
did  they  know  the  whereabouts  of  their  brothers;  and 
even  if  they  had  they  dared  not  leave  their  wives  and  chil 
dren  ;  so  they  prayed  hard  that  their  father  and  brothers 
would  soon  return,  and  meantime  they  prepared  for  a 
fight,  in  case  that  Jones  should  pay  them  a  visit. 

And  Jones  came.     He  came  in  the  daytime,  when  they 


340  Time  and  Chance 

had  expected  he  would  only  dare  attack  them  by  night 
Jason  was  plowing,  a  half-mile  from  the  house,  when  off 
to  the  north  he  saw  a  cloud  of  dust.  Running  to  a  lone 
hickory  tree  that  stood  near,  he  climbed  up  until  his  eyes 
could  command  a  distance  of  five  miles  or  more.  A 
party  of  full  fifty  horsemen  was  approaching. 

'  They  are  coming,  John,  the  Missourians  are 
coming!  " 

4  Very  well,  we  have  been  expecting  them." 

"  But  there  are  fifty!  " 

14  But  we  can  fight,  too,"  said  Ellen,  "  I  can  shoot. 

No,  we  can  only  hold  out  for  a  few  hours  before  such 
a  force.     You  must  go  to  the  woods." 
'  Without  you  ?  " 
4  Yes,  just  you  two  women  and  the  children." 

"  And  then—  " 

'  Hide  in  the  hazel  bushes  until  night,  and  then  make 
your  way  to  Osawatomie  and  give  the  alarm — we  can 
hold  the  ruffians  off  for  a  day  at  least !  To  the  woods  at 
once — to  the  woods!  " 

Jason  helped  the  women  and  crying  children  to  the 
ravine,  and  down  through  brush  and  grass  they  went  for 
the  timber,  half  a  mile  to  the  east.  He  got  back  and  the 
brothers  barred  the  door,  just  as  the  Missourians  appeared 
over  the  knoll  two  hundred  yards  away.  The  crack  of  a 
Sharpe's  rifle  brought  them  to  a  quick  halt.  They  with 
drew  a  short  distance,  stopped,  conferred,  and  dividing 
into  two  parts,  they  slowly  circled  the  little  clump  of 
houses  and  barns. 

There  was  much  sharp  firing,  and  the  balls  pattered 
like  hail  against  the  log  house,  but  no  flag  of  distress  was 
sent  up. 

Darkness  came.  The  firing  ceased,  and  then  was  be 
gun  by  the  invaders  with  renewed  energy.  No  balls 


Womanhood  and  Childhood  not  Exempt    341 

struck  the  house,  and  had  the  two  men  inside  been  ob 
serving  carefully,  they  would  have  seen  that  the  streaks 
of  light  from  the  rifles  of  the  enemy  went  nearly  straight 
into  the  air;  the  firing  was  only  to  divert  their  attention 
while  hay  was  being  piled  against  the  house. 

A  little  flicker  was  seen  and  the  firing  ceased ;  then  a 
light  crackle  was  heard.  The  wind  arose.  In  a  minute 
the  flames  shot  up  as  high  as  the  roof  of  the  house.  The 
shingles  caught,  and  a  crawling  line  of  blaze  went  creep 
ing  up  to  the  ridge  pole.  The  flames  quickly  spread. 
The  house  was  doomed. 

John  and  Jason  came  out  of  the  door,  their  hands 
above  their  heads,  in  token  of  surrender. 


CHAPTER    X 

WOMANHOOD   AND   CHILDHOOD   NOT   EXEMPT 

ACROSS  that  ten  miles  of  space  that  separated  Osa- 
watomie  and  Brownsville,  the  two  women  made 
their  way.  The  tired  children,  bewildered  by  the  un 
usual  experience,  made  piteous  outcry,  or  else  doggedly 
lay  down  on  the  damp  ground,  and  instantly  falling 
sound  asleep,  declined  to  be  waked,  either  by  coaxing  or 
threats.  With  full  stomachs  it  is  possible  that  they  might 
have  accepted  the  situation  all  as  a  part  of  life — so  easily 
do  the  young  adapt  themselves  to  environment — but  in 
their  fright  the  mothers  had  forgotten  all  thought  of 
food;  and  hungry  children  —  like  hungry  men — are  re 
bellious,  and  ripe  for  revolution. 

Three  of  the  children  were  Ellen's  and  four  Wealthy 's ; 
the  eldest  one  of  the  flock  was  six  years  old.  Two  were 
babies  that  could  not  walk.  So  the  mothers  carried  the 
youngest  ahead  and  laid  them  down  on  the  ground,  and 


342  Time  and  Chance 

then  went  back  for  the  others;  and  by  carrying,  drag 
ging,  and  urging  they  made  progress — slow  indeed,  but  it 
was  progress.  And  all  the  time  they  could  hear  the  echo 
of  rifles  and  they  knew  that  penned  up  in  the  house  their 
husbands  were  answering  shot  for  shot.  Could  the  men 
hold  out  until  help  came  ?  that  was  the  question.  The 
minutes  were  precious — it  was  for  these  women  to  give 
the  alarm,  and  every  moment  of  delay  meant  just  so 
much  longer  for  John  and  Jason  to  hold  out  against  the 
enemy. 

Four  miles  had  been  made  and  the  crack  of  rifles  had 
turned  to  a  faint,  dull  booming.  Still  the  women  toiled 
and  struggled  forward,  now  and  again  looking  back  to 
where  lay  "  home,  sweet  home,"  and  then  forward  to 
the  haven  of  refuge — yet  miles  away. 

"  What  is  the  light  we  see  back  there,  Ellen  ?  "  asked 
Wealthy. 

"  Do  not  ask,  sister,  it  is  our  home." 

"  What,  have  they  fired  the  house!  " 

"  It  must  be  so!  " 

'  Then  our  husbands  are  dead.  Oh,  why  did  we  not 
go  back  and  share  their  fate! 

The  woman  sank  on  the  ground ;  and  the  children, 
dropping  down  around  her,  huddled  up  close  to  her 
body,  trying  to  protect  themselves  from  the  chilling  night 
dews. 

Ellen  took  off  her  shawl  and  spreading  it  over  the 
stricken  woman  and  the  heap  of  sleeping  children, 
breathed  a  quick  prayer  for  their  safety  and  started  alone 
through  the  darkness  towards  the  town  from  whence  help 
should  come.  Off  to  the  north  the  sky  was  suffused 
with  a  rosy  glow. 


Surveying  the  Territory  343 

CHAPTER    XI 

SURVEYING   THE   TERRITORY 

IT  was  near  nightfall  of  the  next  day  before  Fred, 
Salmon,  and  Owen  were  found  by  the  messenger  that 
had  been  sent  out  for  them.  Their  camp  had  been 
shifted  to  a  point  some  miles  south,  where  a  new  bridge 
was  to  be  built. 

They  hastened  to  Osawatomie  and  found  the  two 
women  and  children  in  the  hands  of  kind  friends. 
Wealthy  was  ill,  delirious  with  fever,  and  three  of  the 
children  were  also  sick,  the  result  of  exposure.  The 
townspeople  made  no  effort  in  the  direction  of  rescuing 
Jason  and  John  Brown.  Why  should  they  ?  Such  out 
rages  were  happening  all  about.  Horses  were  stolen, 
cattle  stampeded,  and  the  barns  of  Free-State  men  were 
being  burned :  everyone  must  take  care  of  himself. 

The  four  houses  which  made  the  rising  city  of  Browns 
ville  were  burned,  that  was  sure— certain  citizens  of  the 
village  had  gone  out  to  see.  What  had  become  of  John 
and  Jason  no  one  knew. 

Salmon  tried  to  raise  a  posse  to  go  in  search  of  his 
brothers,  but  to  leave  home  and  spend  time,  provisions 
and  horseflesh  on  a  skirmish  of  very  uncertain  result, 
with  no  reward  but  small  honors,  was  not  a  pleasant  un 
dertaking.  In  fact,  the  Free-State  people  were  fast  losing 
heart,  and  they  had  nearly  come  to  the  conclusion  that  it 
was  well  to  accept  the  situation  and  lock  their  convictions 
up  in  their  own  breasts. 

At  daylight  the  next  morning  the  three  brothers 
started  to  find  their  father.  When  other  advice  failed 
and  the  air  was  full  of  doubt  and  mist,  they  had  ever 
turned  to  him,  grown  men  that  they  were. 

Straight    out    to    their    old    home    they    rode.     They 


344  Time  and  Chance 

found  the  logs  that  once  made  their  dwelling,  still 
smoldering.  But  all  was  burned — houses,  barns,  sheds. 
Not  one  of  their  horses,  not  a  cow  was  to  be  seen ;  not 
even  a  chicken,  nor  a  sheep,  nor  a  pig.  All  was  laid 
waste  and  where  their  promising  garden  had  been  three 
days  before,  now  was  only  a  trampled  mass  of  vegeta 
tion,  ground  into  the  earth  by  the  tramp  of  many 
hoofs. 

The  sight  was  too  sad  to  linger  over ;  they  turned  their 
horses  to  the  west. 

They  moved  forward  over  the  soft  turf  in  silence,  each 
man  too  full  of  his  own  thought  to  talk.  Riding  over  a 
rising  knoll,  a  faint  line  of  rising  smoke  was  seen  coming 
out  of  a  gully  a  mile  away. 

"  It  's  a  camp,"  said  Owen.  '  Either  Indians  or 
Missourians.  No  one  who  did  not  wish  to  hide  would 
camp  in  such  a  place — hold  my  horse  and  I  '11  crawl  up 
to  the  left  through  the  tall  grass  and  find  out  what  it  is." 

The  men  dismounted  and  Owen  skirted  the  knoll  and 
soon  was  lost  to  view  in  the  rank  swale.  In  an  hour  he 
came  back  and  reported  that  he  had  crawled  within  fifty 
yards  of  the  camp.  They  were  armed  men  with  senti 
nels  set — a  motley  lot  and  evidently  on  no  good  errand. 

A  ride  of  eight  miles,  and  a  cabin  in  process  of  erection 
was  found.  Working  away,  getting  the  rafters  in  position 
for  the  roof,  was  their  father. 

"  Is  it  possible  you  have  not  heard  the  news  ?  "  called 
Salmon. 

"Yes,  I  know  the  news,"  answered  the  old  man  from 
his  elevated  perch. 

"  And  you  know  that  our  houses  are  burned  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  stock  run  off  ?  " 

"Yes." 


Surveying  the  Territory  345 

"  And  that  the  women  and  children  are  in  Osawa- 
tomie  ?  " 

'  Yes,  such  news  travels  fast — it  was  passed  on  from 
cabin  to  cabin  and  reached  me  yesterday." 

"  And  did  you  know  that  John  and  Jason  are  dead  ?  " 

"  They  are  not  dead." 

"  How  do  you  know  ? " 

"  Read  this  letter." 

The  old  man  reached  into  his  bosom  and  brought  forth 
a  piece  of  brown  paper  that  he  dropped  fluttering  to  the 
ground.  The  paper  was  written  over  both  sides  with  a 
pencil ;  and  it  ran  as  follows : 

LECOMPTON,  May  19,  1856. 
DEAR  FATHER: 

The  sheriff  has  John  and  me  on  charge  of  rescuing  Bran 
son.  They  handcuffed  us  together  and  drove  us  like  cattle  all 
the  forty  miles  here.  The  jail  is  only  a  wooden  building  with 
iron  rings  in  the  floor,  where  the  prisoners  are  chained  by  the 
feet.  Everybody  comes  in  and  stares  at  us.  Yesterday  a 
party  of  Missourians  amused  themselves  by  standing  off  and 
spitting  tobacco  juice  in  our  faces,  but  Governor  Shannon 
came  in  the  afternoon  and  ordered  that  we  be  given  good 
treatment.  He  says  if  we  will  agree  to  get  out  of  Kansas  and 
never  come  back,  that  he  will  let  us  go.  John  has  been  out  of 
his  head,  but  is  some  better  now;  if  we  could  only  hear  that 
the  women  and  children  got  to  Osawatomie  safely,  I  think 
John  would  soon  get  all  right. 

Do  not  attempt  to  rescue  us  —  the  whole  town  here  is  pro 
tected  by  soldiers.  Don't  worry  about  us.  There  are  seven 
other  Free-State  men  prisoners  here,  and  we  all  expect  to  be 
put  over  the  border  into  Nebraska  with  a  threat  that  we  shall 
be  killed  if  we  come  back.  The  intent  is  either  to  kill,  drive 
out,  or  silence  all  Abolitionists.  They  will  kill  you  if  they 
can,  so  look  out.  If  you  think  the  odds  are  too  great  to  fight 
against,  let  us  all  get  out  of  the  State  soon. 


346  Time  and  Chance 

I  send  this  secretly  by  a  boy  who  offered  to  carry  a  message  to 
you;  he  is  a  son  of  a  Free-State  man.  JASON. 

'  Well,  what  's  to  be  done  ?  "  asked  Owen  of  the  old 
man,  who  had  now  come  down  and  joined  the  group. 

"  Get  the  roof  on  this  house  the  first  thing." 

"  And  not  try  to  rescue  the  boys  ?  " 

"  Not  now,  you  see  that  's  what  the  ruffians  expect. 
If  we  should  march  our  little  force  on  Lecompton  now, 
they  would  swing  in  behind  and  bag  us  all.  Now  just 
stake  out  your  horses  and  give  us  a  lift  here.  These  peo 
ple  have  lived  under  a  wagon  long  enough  ;  we  will  finish 
one  job  at  a  time." 

"  And  if  we  finish  this  job  we  will  be  finished  our 
selves!  " 

"  Why  so  ?" 

'  There  are  at  least  forty  Missourians  hiding  in  Hen 
derson's  Gulch!  " 

"  Well,  then,  we  must  find  what  they  are  about.  The 
section  line  runs  near  here,  don't  it,  Salmon  ?  " 

"  I  believe  so." 

This  was  an  ancient  joke  and  all  smiled  feebly.  The 
old  man  was  a  surveyor  and  always  carried  his  flags, 
transit,  chain-pins  and  stakes  with  him.  The  instru 
ments  diverted  suspicion,  for  only  Pro-Slavery  men  were 
allowed  to  do  Government  surveying. 

And  so,  starting  out  with  Salmon  and  Oliver  in  a  one- 
horse  wagon,  leaving  all  arms  behind,  the  old  man  drove 
within  a  mile  of  the  gully  where  the  Missourians  were 
camped.  Getting  the  line  due  east  and  west,  he  sighted 
the  transit  straight  through  the  enemy's  camp.  Oliver 
went  ahead  and  planted  the  tall  red  flag.  He  mo 
tioned  now  right,  now  left,  and  finally  got  the  attention 
of  the  men  in  the  ditch.  Then  he  moved  up  nearer  and 


Surveying  the  Territory  347 

again  set  the  flag — more  waving  to  right  and  left,  and 
then  more  squinting  through  the  transit. 

Then  the  flag  was  carried  up  and  placed  right  on  the 
brow  of  the  enemies'  camp.  Several  of  the  crowd  came 
forward,  looked  on  and  tried  to  be  sociable  with  the 
young  man.  He  barely  explained  that  he  belonged  to 
the  United  States  Government  Survey,  and  that  he  was 
sick  of  the  job  and  wished  he  was  back  in  Kentucky; 
then  he  moved  on  through  the  gulch  and  planted  his  flag 
on  the  opposite  crest. 

The  transit  moved  on  up,  and  the  old  man  behind  it 
squinted  and  motioned  first  with  one  hand,  then  the 
other.  Soon  he,  too,  reached  the  camp,  and  the  loungers 
found  him  to  be  gruff  and  unsociable,  also.  He  answered 
their  questions  in  monosyllables,  and  was  too  intent  on 
his  work  to  pay  much  attention  to  them.  He  sat  down 
on  the  ground,  and  figured  and  figured  in  a  blank  book, 
and  at  last  he  seemed  relieved.  Evidently  the  compu 
tation  came  out  right,  for  he  thawed  out  enough  to  allow 
a  big,  hulking  fellow  to  squint  through  the  glass.  The 
man  could  not  sec  much,  but  several  others  tried  it,  and 
when  the  old  man  took  out  of  his  pocket  a  dark-colored 
piece  of  glass  and  fitted  it  over  the  face  of  the  transit  and 
pointed  the  machine  at  the  sun,  the  men  flocked  around 
and  took  turns  in  looking  through.  They  were  greatly 
pleased,  and  to  think  that  so  high  an  official  as  a  Govern 
ment  Surveyor  who  got  sixty  dollars  a  month  should 
have  paid  them  this  deference,  was  gratifying. 

The  old  man  shouldered  his  instrument  and  started  off, 
but  seeing  the  little  brook  that  ran  through  the  gulch, 
he  took  off  his  boots  and  dabbled  his  feet  in  the  water- 
so  much  walking  had  blistered  his  feet,  he  explained. 

And  as  he  sat  there  on  the  grassy  bank,  he  talked  with 
the  men  and  they  talked  with  him. 


348  Time  and  Chance 

"  Are  you  cattle  men  ?  "  he  asked. 
"  No,  no,  we  are  after  bigger  game  than  cattle." 
"  Well,  what  is  it  ?" 

"  Why,  have  n't    you    heard    of   how  the  Yanks  are 
raisin'  the  devil  here  ?  " 

'  What  do  I  care  for  the  Yanks — I  'm  a  surveyor." 
'  Well,  they  are  talking  Abolition  and  getting  the 
slaves  restless.  They  oppose  the  rcg'lar  government — 
up  and  take  pris'ners  from  the  Sheriff  and  raise  particular 
hell.  We  're  from  Mizzoury  and  are  over  here  to  quietly 
clean  'em  out." 

'  Won't  these  Yanks  obey  the  laws  ?  " 
'  Won't  obey  nothin' !  " 
'  Well,  surely  they  deserve  punishment." 
"  And  they  '11  get  it,  stranger,  or  else  I  'm  a  liar!  " 
'  There  's  an  old  fellow  I  've  heard  of  by  the  name  of 
Jones  who  you  should  look  after." 

'"  Brown,    stranger,    Brown — he   's  one    of    'em.     We 
grabbed  two  of  his  sons,  but  there  is  quite  a  nest  of  'em 
besides  the  old  'un — we  are  going  to  do  him  straight!  " 
"  Oh,  you  mean  hang  him  ?  " 

'  That  's  it,  string  him  up,  that  is,  if  we  can  catch  him 
alive." 

"  Well,  why  are  you  waiting  here  ?  " 
"  Oh,  some  of  the  settlers  are  locating  the  game  for  us ! 
We  are  waitin'  so  we  can  do  the  whole  job  in  one  night. 
When  we  strike,  we  're  goin'  to  hit  hard  and  then  git." 
'  Well,  if  these  Northerners  can't  obey  the  laws,  of 
course  you  've  got  to  protect  yourselves  against  them." 
'  Now  you  're  talkin'  sense,  stranger." 
Brown  looked  around  at  the  motley  crew.     They  were 
all  armed,  and  men  who  in  a  good  cause  might  fight,  and 
fight  hard.     Some  were  mere  ragged   adventurers,    but 
others  were  farmers  who  actually  believed  that  they  were 


Jim  Slivers  and  Death  without  Warning     349 

engaged  in  a  good  cause.     The  old  man  looked  them  over 
with  mingled  contempt  and  pity. 

His  glance  ran  from  one  to  another,  and  finally  his  eye 
rested  on  a  man  lying  at  full  length  on  his  stomach  about 
twenty  feet  away.  It  was  a  homely  face  this  man  had, 
it  was  so  homely  as  to  be  attractive;  beside  that,  the 
man  was  older  than  most  of  the  others  in  the  party  and 
this  would  naturally  call  one's  attention  to  him.  The 
fellow's  chin  rested  on  his  hands  and  as  he  lay  there 
smoking  a  cob  pipe  he  looked  straight  out  in  front  at  Old 
Brown ;  a  half-smile  was  on  his  face,  and  his  grizzled  red 
whiskers  and  little  sharp  eyes  gave  him  a  fiendish  look. 

Brown  looked  again  and  gave  a  start  of  surprise  as  the 
fellow  closed  one  eye  in  a  long  wink,  looking  straight  at 
him  with  the  other. 

'  Well,  boys,"  said  the  surveyor,  "  I  '11  have  to  be  go 
ing  if  I  make  Hickory  Point  for  camp  to-night.  Good 
bye  and  good  luck  to  you." 

"  Good-bye,  sah,  and  same  to  you,"  said  several  of 
the  men  civilly. 

The  man  with  the  cob  pipe  was  Jim  Slivers. 


CHAPTER    XII 

JIM   SLIVERS   AND    DEATH   WITHOUT   WARNING 

HPHE  little  surveying  party  reached  Hickory  Point  in 
1  time  to  camp,  for  once  out  of  sight  of  the  Missou- 
rians,  they  made  good  time.  Oliver  got  the  shotgun  out 
from  under  the  wagon-seat  and  they  had  broiled  prairie 
chicken  for  supper. 

At  nine  o'clock  in  walked  our  old  friend  Jim  Slivers, 
whistling  "  Yankee  Doodle." 


350  Time  and  Chance 

Hungry  as  a  woodchuck — nothin'  but  sow-belly  an' 
pone  for  two  weeks — rogues'  feed  it  is!  Lively  now,  an' 
get  an  honest  man  a  square  meal." 

Oliver  stirred  up  the  fire  and  began  broiling  the  prairie 
chickens  on  a  spit.  Jim  Slivers  squatted  by  the  fire,  and 
chuckled  and  chuckled  to  think  what  a  good  joke  he  had 
played  on  John  Brown  by  appearing  in  this  unexpected 
way.  Brown  had  not  seen  him  for  five  years  and  did  not 
suppose  that  he  was  within  a  thousand  miles  of  Kansas. 
'  Where  'd  I  come  from  ?  wait  till  I  pick  the  bones  of 
this  here  canary  an'  I  '11  tell — from  Ohio,  where  'd  you 
"pose." 

I  know,  but  what  was  you  doing  with  those  cut 
throats  ?  " 

'  Eatin'  their  bacon  and  finding  out  what  they  was 
goin'  to  do!  " 

The  years  had  left  their  marks  on  Jim  Slivers,  but  he 
was  still  a  boy  in  disposition.     He  had  the  negro's  liking 
for  fun  and  trifling,  and  nothing  pleased  him  so  much  as 
to  give  an  air  of  mystery  to  his  acts. 
"  And  where  did  you  join  them  ?  " 
"  At  Westport — I  came  as  a  roustabout  on  a  river  boat, 
an'  when  I  got  to  Westport  they  was  callin'  for  volun 
teers  to  go  over  into  Kansas  an'  clean  out  the  Yanks,  an' 
so  I  up  an'  'listed." 

"  And  now  you  've  deserted!  " 
"  Have  I  ?" 
'  It  looks  like  it." 

Well,  s'pose  I  had  n't,  what  would  become  of  you 
day  after  to-morrow  night  ?  " 
I  don't  know — what  ?  " 

Hang  you — for  sure — hang  you  and  Oliver  there  and 
Owen,  and  the  whole  caboodle  of  you,  'sides  killing 
Adair,  Morrow,  Hines,  and  Brockett!  " 


Jim  Slivers  and  Death  without  Warning     351 

'  Why,  these  are  all  settlers  right  around  here — Free- 
State  men !  " 

I  know,  they  're  all  goin'  to  die  day  after  to-morrow 
night.  Doyle,  Sherman,  Coleman,  Huson,  an' Wilkinson 
are  spottin'  'em  all,  an'  are  goin'  to  lead  my  frens 
straight  to  'em." 

'  That  Coleman  is  the  man  who  shot  Dow!  " 
'  Yes,  I  heard  him  brag  of  it." 

"  And  were  these  men  at  the  Missourians'  camp  ?  " 
'  Yes,  Doyle,  Sherman,  Coleman,  Huson,  an'  Wilkin 
son — I  've  been  sayin'  the  names  over  to  myself  'cause  I 
was  afraid  I  'd  forget  "em." 

"  And  supposing  I  had  not  run  my  line  through  that 
camp  and  found  you  ?  " 

:<  I  knew  where  you  was  an'  would  have  found  you  to 
night  jest  the  same!  Oh,  I  'most  forgot  Missus  Brydges; 
she  sent  you  a  letter — it  's  sewed  up  in  the  linin'  of  my 
vest,  you  '11  have  to  cut  the  thing  open.  An'  I  '11  jest 
take  a  snooze;  I  've  been  sleepin'  with  one  eye  open  so 
long  that  I  'm  nigh  done  for." 

Jim  rolled  up  in  a  blanket  with  feet  to  the  fire;  Owen 
and  Oliver  did  the  same,  and  the  old  man  read  and  re 
read.  It  was  a  long  letter  and  evidently  of  importance, 
for  it  agitated  the  reader  so  that  sleep  was  out  of  the 
question. 

Before  daylight  he  called  his  three  men.  A  hurried 
breakfast  was  prepared  and  while  they  ate,  the  old  man 
explained  his  plan.  It  was  simply  to  notify  the  Free- 
State  men  whose  lives  were  threatened,  collect  as  many 
men  as  possible,  turn  the  unfinished  house  into  a  fort  by 
throwing  up  earthworks,  and  then  await  the  coming  of 
the  Missourians. 

"  Oh,  if  we  only  had  the  arms  that  were  burned  up  in 
our  house!  "  moaned  Owen. 


35 2  Time  and  Chance 

'  I  guaes  they  were  n't  all  burned.  I  buried  a  full 
dozen  or  more  guns  and  all  of  those  short  swords  in  the 
garden  after  you  left,"  replied  the  old  man. 

"  And  they  are  there  yet  ?  " 

"  I  rather  guess!  " 

'  We  will  need  the  swords  if  it  comes  to  close 
quarters!  " 

"  Well,  let  Oliver  and  Jim  take  the  wagon  and  go  dig 
them  up,  and  you  and  I  will  go  around  and  quietly  notify 
all  the  loyal  settlers  we  can  find." 

So  they  parted  there  on  the  prairie,  just  as  the  sun 
came  up  out  of  the  great  ocean  of  waving  grass  that 
stretched  away  like  a  tideless,  changeless  sea.  Jim  and 
Oliver  made  their  way  to  the  blackened  ashes  that  once 
had  been  a  happy  home,  and  the  old  man  with  his  stal 
wart  son  trudged  off  through  the  wild  sunflowers  that 
waved  in  the  morning  breeze,  to  tell  men  that  other  men 
intended  to  murder  them. 

Jim  and  Oliver  followed  the  directions  given  by  the  old 
man  and  found  the  buried  tools  of  war.  Instead  of  obey 
ing  orders  and  waiting  until  nightfall,  they  loaded  them 
at  once  into  the  wagon.  The  swords  were  of  a  very 
ancient  pattern  and  had  been  given  to  Brown  at  Spring 
field,  Mass.  They  were  heavy,  short,  and  double-edged. 

Jim  took  out  one  and  flourished  it  in  the  air,  making 
passes  and  thrusts  at  an  imaginary  foe : 

'  Jeeminy  Krismus!  but  I  'd  like  to  get  a  jab  at  that 
man  Colernan  with  this  here  toothpick!  ' 

******* 

Oliver  and  Jim  did  not  reach  Old  Man  Brown  that 
night,  as  agreed.  Their  absence  caused  much  appre 
hension.  It  was  well  towards  night  of  the  following  day 
before  the  white  horse  hitched  to  their  wagon  was  seen 
coming  at  a  weary  trot  across  the  prairie. 


The  Soil  of  Kansas  Fertilized  by  Blood     353 

We  have  just  heard  frightful  news,"  exclaimed  Fred 
to  Oliver,  as  the  wagon   stopped  and  the  young   man 
stepped  out  on  the  ground. 
'  What  is  it  ?  "  asked  Oliver. 

Last  night  someone  went  to  the  houses  of  Doyle 
and  Sherman  and  several  other  Pro-Slavery  men,  and 
calling  them  out,  killed  them  with  axes  or  scythes  or 
something — 

Went  from  house  to  house  ?  "  asked  Jim. 
"  Yes." 

And  called  'em  out,  you  say  ?  " 

'  Yes,  on  pretense  of  having  a  friendly  message   of 
some  sort !  " 

And  when  they  showed  up  in  the  doorway,  they  got 
slashed  ?  " 
"  Yes." 

Well,  we  are  the  men  who  done  the  business! "  said 
Jim  Slivers.  "  One  night  more  an'  they  would  have 
slashed  you  ;  we  took  time  by  the  forelock,  an'  killed  five 
of  'em  without  the  pop  of  a  gun — Is  supper  ready  ?  " 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE   SOIL   OF   KANSAS   FERTILIZED   BY   BLOOD 

NO  attack  was  made  by  the  Missourians  that  night. 
The  men  who  were  to  pilot  them  to  victory  were 
dead ;    a    frightful,    sudden    death   had    come  to    them, 
a   death  without   warning,    or   time   for  preparation    or 
parley. 

Messages  had  been  going  back  and  forth  from  these 
men  to  the  Missourians'  camp,  and  so  the  summons  at 
the  door  was  answered  without  thought  of  harm.  In  fact, 


354  Time  and  Chance 

the  Southrons  up  to  this  time  had  not  been  molested ; 
on  the  part  of  the  Free-State  men,  the  war  had  been 
purely  on  the  defensive. 

It  was  a  terrible  blow  that  had  been  struck — a  frightful, 
savage  blow.  It  came  in  the  night-time,  like  a  swift  and 
secret  vengeance  of  God.  No  uproar  had  been  made, 
but  the  heavy  two-edged  swords  had  cleaved  the  skulls 
of  their  victims  at  a  single  stroke. 

It  was  the  capricious  work  of  reckless  youth  and  hard 
ened,  unthinking  age.  When  there  is  murder  to  perform, 
and  rough  riders  are  wanted  to  go  out  and  cope  with 
hell,  only  very  young  men  should  be  picked ;  boys  of 
eighteen  have  neither  caution  nor  conscience;  they  are 
possessed  of  a  foolish  confidence  in  fate,  and  in  their 
growing  strength  they  believe  neither  in  God  nor  devil ; 
and  if  they  once  taste  blood,  they  are  savages. 

Practically  Oliver  and  Jim  were  of  one  mind.  Jim  had 
lived  many  years,  but  he  had  not  learned  discretion  nor 
manly  caution.  His  cool  cunning  had  served  him  in 
such  stead  that  he  had  come  to  think  that  he  bore  a 
charmed  life,  and  like  untried  youth,  he  loved  to  dally 
with  death  and  play  at  skittles  with  the  grave. 

To  do  this  fearful  deed  alone  they  thought  was  the 
height  of  bravery ;  it  was  getting  the  start  of  others  who 
might  have  been  glad  to  do  it ;  it  was  prowess  to  be 
proud  of,  and  what  a  joke!  These  men,  whom  they  had 
run  through  with  steel,  were  about  to  go  forth  on  deeds 
of  murder,  and  the  doom  that  was  to  come  to  others  had 
broken  upon  themselves. 

But  upon  that  midnight  raid  hinged  the  fate  of  Kansas, 
and  the  fate  of  the  Nation.  The  Free-State  men  in  Kan 
sas  were  discouraged,  and  were  about  to  accept  the  terms 
of  amnesty  offered ;  silence  or  retreat.  The  Missouri 
River  was  closed  to  Northern  immigrants  going  west- 


The  Soil  of  Kansas  Fertilized  by  Blood     355 

ward,  but  not  east,  and  the  tide  of  home-seekers  from 
the  north  had  been  turned  back. 

But  now  five  of  the  chief  defenders  of  Slavery  had 
been  struck  down  in  a  single  night.  Not  shot  from  a  safe 
distance;  but  beheaded,  slashed,  disemboweled,  and 
their  blood  and  brains  spilt  and  scattered.  An  impression 
had  been  made — a  terrible  lesson  taught.  The  lesson  had 
been  made  plain  that  God  slumbers  not  nor  sleeps. 

The  Southrons  placed  the  mangled  bodies  on  display 
and  men  came  from  many  miles  to  look  upon  the  shattered 
forms.  The  scene  was  frightful  and  shocking,  even  to 
strong  nerves,  but  the  people  that  came  knew  that  these 
were  the  men  who  had  stolen  the  horses,  stampeded  the 
cattle,  and  burned  the  barns  of  Free-State  settlers. 
These  headless  forms  were  once  the  men  who  had 
painted  skulls  and  cross-bones  on  doors,  who  had  fright 
ened  women,  had  made  threats,  and  then  fulfilled  them 
by  shooting  down  Northern  men  who  had  refused  to 
leave.  These  were  the  men  who  had  invited  into  the 
Territory,  and  were  acting  as  guides  for,  an  armed  force 
from  a  sister  State  that  was  doing  what  they  dared  not. 

The  Free-State  men  were  shocked,  but  horror  gave 
way  to  confidence,  and  Brown  rallied  a  force  of  fifty  men, 
where  a  few  days  before  he  could  not  have  raised  twenty. 

The  Missourians  still  remained  in  camp,  hesitating 
whether  to  go  or  stay. 

Brown  waited  not  for  an  attack,  but  marched  his  men 
upon  them,  in  battle  array,  out  across  the  plains.  The 
men  entrenched  in  the  gully  prepared  for  fight.  The  fir 
ing  was  fast  and  furious,  and  all  the  time  the  Yankee 
forces  were  creeping  closer. 

Suddenly,  on  the  crest  of  the  hill  behind  the  gulch,  ap 
peared  a  young  man  wearing  a  cockade  and  bearing  a 
banner.  He  waved  his  sword  and  called  back  to  an 


356  Time  and  Chance 

imaginary  force  behind,  "  Come  on,  boys,  come  on,  all 
of  you ! !  " 

Thinking  that  a  charge  was  being  made  upon  them 
from  two  sides,  the  Missourians  became  panic-stricken 
and  rushed  down  the  valley — the  only  way  open,  and 
thence  across  the  prairie  to  the  east,  in  a  frantic  flight, 
pursued  by  a  force  that  gained  in  numbers  as  it  moved. 


CHAPTER    XIV 

JOHN   BROWN   AND    UNCLE    SAM   PARLEY 

TAKING  advantage  of  the  fear  that  was  clutteiing  the 
hearts  of  the  Southrons,  Brown  rode  out  with  five 
men  and  captured  two  prominent  slave-holders  who  lived 
near  the  Missouri  line.  The  men  were  seized  in  their 
beds,  before  they  had  an  opportunity  to  resist.  A  letter 
was  dispatched  to  Governor  Shannon,  offering  to  ex 
change  these  prisoners  for  the  two  Browns.  With  Old 
Man  Brown's  letter,  each  of  the  kidnapped  men  sent  an 
urgent  personal  appeal  that  Shannon  should  comply. 
And  Shannon  complied — the  exchange  being  affected  the 
next  day  —  Brown's  word  of  honor  being  accepted  to 
release  his  prisoners,  if  John  and  Jason  were  given  safe 
conduct  to  Hickory  Point.  They  were  taken  there  and 
released.  The  next  day  the  two  well-frightened  slave 
holders  were  back  in  the  bosom  of  their  families. 

But  who  struck  that  murderous  midnight  blow  ?  Old 
Man  Brown,  everyone  said.  The  Territorial  Government 
offered  a  reward  of  a  thousand  dollars  for  his  capture. 
This  was  a  good  deal  of  money  in  those  days,  but  it  was 
not  enough  to  tempt  any  local  officer  to  go  after  him. 
The  fear  of  meeting  a  fate  similar  to  the  five  Pro-Slavery 


John  Brown  and  Uncle  Sam  Parley        357 

leaders  had  a  most  wholesome  and  restraining  influence. 
Where  would  lightning  strike  next  ?  Who  could  tell. 

The  Browns  were  homeless  and  were  being  hunted  by 
an  armed  force.  Peaceful  employment  was  now  denied 
them — they  must  stick  together  and  sleep  on  their  guns. 
They  made  their  camps  in  the  bluffs  and  woods  that 
lined  the  streams — moving  from  place  to  place.  Pro 
visions  they  must  have,  and  so  they  made  short  forays 
out  among  the  Pro-Slavery  settlers  and  demanded  what 
they  wanted.  Where  they  could  locate  a  fine  horse  that 
belonged  to  a  slave-holder,  they  went  out  and  took  it — 
the  enemy,  that  had  proscribed  and  ostracized  them,  must 
pay  the  expenses  of  the  ostracism.  They  were  splen 
didly  armed.  Various  adventurous  young  men  among  the 
Free-State  settlers  joined  them,  so  their  force  numbered 
about  forty  in  all — which  included  John  Brown  and 
seven  sons,  and  a  son-in-law — Henry  Thompson  by  name, 
who  had  come  on  from  the  East  with  Watson  Brown,  in 
time  to  share  the  ignominy  of  their  brothers. 

Practically  they  were  fugitives  from  justice — they  had 
defied  the  Territorial  Government.  Wilkinson,  whom 
they  had  killed,  was  a  member  of  the  Legislature — -a  sham 
Legislature  to  be  sure,  chosen  through  fraud — but,  never 
theless,  the  law-making  power  of  the  Territory,  duly  in 
stalled  and  recognized  by  the  General  Government  of  the 
United  States  of  America. 

And  so  they  lived  houseless,  homeless,  hunted,  yet  not 
unhappy.  They  fared  on  the  best  that  the  country 
afforded.  The  Free-State  people  had  no  fear  of  them,  of 
course,  and  in  fact,  aided  and  abetted  them  in  many 
ways,  keeping  them  informed  of  the  movements  of  the 
two  hundred  U.  S.  troops  that  were  out  after  them. 

There  were  occasional  skirmishes,  but  the  troops 
were  wary  of  coming  in  contact  with  this  fierce  band  of 


358  Timo  and  Chance 

freebooters,  whose  fierceness,  though  not  their  bravery 
was  greatly  over-estimated. 

And  so  a  month  passed  with  several  killed,  on  both 
sides;  but  confidence  was  coming  back  to  the  Free-State 
settlers — Brown  was  at  large  and  fear  kept  the  Southrons 
civil. 

But  now  a  new  officer  had  been  sent  on  by  the  Govern 
ment  to  take  charge  of  the  U.  S.  troops.  This  officer 
was  instructed  by  his  superiors  at  Washington  to  avoid 
any  collision  with  the  insurrectionists,  but  if  possible,  to 
get  them  to  return  to  their  farms.  In  fact,  it  was  a  dip 
lomatic  move,  for  Congress  had  finally  gotten  awake  to 
the  fact  that  this  little  prairie  fire  started  away  out  in 
Kansas  might  possibly  spread  and  become  a  conflagration 
that  would  sweep  the  land.  Yet  Congress  sympathized 
with  the  slave  interests;  but  to  boldly  join  sides  with  the 
Missourians  and  to  use  the  army  to  put  down  the  Free- 
State  men  was  too  brazen  a  thing  to  undertake. 

And  so  it  came  to  pass  that  John  Brown  and  his  little 
band  of  fighters  held  their  own ;  and  meantime  the  news 
papers  of  the  North  issued  notes  of  warning  that  had 
echoed  even  through  the  legislative  halls  at  Washington. 

"  It  will  not  do  to  make  war  on  any  class  of  citizens — 
Massachusetts  is  getting  warm  over  this  thing,"  said  the 
President  to  his  Secretary  of  War. 

'  Very  well,  I  '11  send  a  cool-headed  man  to  Kansas  to 
take  charge  of  the  U.  S.  troops,  and  give  him  orders  to 
act  as  a  peace-maker  and  induce  all  armed  bodies  to  sep 
arate  and  return  to  their  homes." 

The  Secretary  of  War  chose  a  Colonel  by  the  name  of 
Brydges — Richard  Brydges  —  for  the  delicate  mission, 
and  Colonel  Brydges  duly  arrived  on  the  ground  and  took 
charge.  His  first  act  was  to  send  a  message  to  "  Cap 
tain  Brown  "  asking  for  an  interview. 


359 

The  men  met  close  out  on  the  prairie,  on  horseback. 

Colonel  Brydges  was  tall,  slender,  in  age  something 
under  forty.  He  wore  glasses  and  had  the  look  of  a 
student  rather  than  a  man  of  war.  His  brilliant  uniform 
and  sword  rather  belied  the  bookish  cast  of  his  features; 
and  as  Old  Man  Brown  looked  him  over  from  under  his 
shaggy  eyebrows,  he  rather  liked  the  fellow. 

The  men  dismounted  and  as  they  walked  forward  to 
wards  each  other,  their  hearts  beat  fast.  The  Colonel 
had  expected  to  see  a  robber  —  booted,  spurred  and 
armed  to  the  teeth  ;  he  saw  only  a  plain  old  farmer,  whose 
long  white  beard  gave  a  patriarchial  suggestion  to  the 
sober  face.  Brown  carried  no  arms. 

Brydges  had  dreaded  the  interview — not  through  a 
sense  of  danger — but  to  parley  with  stupidity  and  obsti 
nate  ignorance  is  never  pleasant.  These  men  shook 
hands — looked  each  other  square  in  the  eyes  and  both 
heaved  a  sigh  of  relief.  Each  saw  that  the  other  was 
sensitive,  discerning  and  honest.  When  men  with  equal 
intelligence  and  purity  of  motive  meet,  subterfuge  and 
formality  can  be  laid  aside.  There  need  be  no  attempt 
to  impress,  nor  effort  to  conceal,  nor  struggle  to  make 
plain.  They  gauge  each  other's  hearts  as  though  they 
had  lived  under  one  roof. 

"  I  know  your  mother,"  were  the  first  words  of  the  old 
man — spoken  quietly.  The  other  gave  a  look  of  surprise. 
"  Yes,  I  know  your  mother.  When  I  saw  your  name- 
Richard  Brydges — I  could  not  think  it  possible  it  was 
you." 

"  I— I  do  not  understand,"  said  Colonel  Brydges,  tak 
ing  off  his  glasses.  He  half  thought  that  these  rumors 
he  had  heard  of  this  old  man's  insanity  might  have  basis 
in  truth. 

"  When  did  you  see  my  mother  last,  Captain  Brown  ?" 


360  Time  and  Chance 

The  old  man  looked  off  across  the  prairie,  smiled  sadly 
and  answered:  "  Not  since  you  were  born!  " 

The  Colonel  shifted  from  one  foot  to  the  other;  he 
now  felt  sure  that  this  beautiful  calm  on  the  face  of  the 
other  was  only  the  peace  that  sometimes  comes  to  the 
illusioned  soul. 

"  Not  for  forty  years  ?  and  yet  you  could  see  a  resem 
blance  between  me  and  her — you  have  a  good  memory, 
sir!  " 

'  Too  good,  perhaps— 

"  And  not  having  seen  my  mother  for  forty  years,  you 
still  say  that  you  know  her  ?  " 

"  Yes,  here  is  a  letter  from  her!  " 

Brown  took  from  a  pocket-book  a  soiled  and  creased 
letter  and  showed  it  to  the  Colonel. 

"Why  —  surely  in  Heaven's  name,  yes!  it  is  my 
mother's  writing.  Let  me  see  the  signature!  " 

'  There  is  no  signature.     When  she  writes  to  me  she 
does  not  sign  her  name." 

"  And  why  not,  pray  ? " 

"  You  officers  of  the  army  might  be  sent  to  arrest  her 
for  treason!  " 

"  And  can  it  be  possible  that  you  are  the  Brown  that 
used  to  live  in  the  Western  Reserve  ?  " 

"  The  same." 

'  Why,  often  have  I  heard  my  mother  tell  of  you — but 
what  are  you  doing  here  ?  " 

"  Fighting  for  Freedom's  cause." 

"  And  my  mother  is  encouraging  you  in  this  insurrec 
tion  ?  " 

11  Yes." 

Colonel  Brydges  paused,  bit  his  mustache,  and  then 
took  off  his  glasses  and  wiped  them  on  a  silk  handker 
chief. 


John  Brown  and  Uncle  Sam  Parley        361 

"  I  see  it  all,"  he  said  after  a  moment,  "  you  have  only 
shifted  the  battleground  and  changed  the  methods  a 
trifle.  In  other  words,  you  have  been  found  out  and  now 
have  to  fight  openly." 

"  Yes,  you  have  guessed  it." 

"  But  what  a  little  world  it  is!  And  to  think  that  my 
mother  should  have  had  an  indirect  hand  in  raising  this 
rebellion  that  I  am  sent  out  here  to  put  down !  She  al 
ways  was  a  fanatic  on  the  subject,  though." 

"  Of  slavery  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  And  you  ?  " 

"  Me  ?  why  I  'm  an  army  officer  and  have  no  opinions 
— I  obey  orders." 

'  But  you  do  not  believe  in  human  slavery  ?  " 
'  Well,  possibly  not,  although  my  grandfather  was  a 
slave-holder." 

'  Yes,  I  've  heard  he  was." 

"  And  you  knew  him,  I  should  judge,  by  the  way  you 
speak  ? " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  did  he  not  treat  his  slaves — that  is,  his  people, 
well  ?" 

'  Undoubtedly;  one  of  his  sons  is  a  member  of  my 
company  over  there  in  that  woods." 

"  One  of  whose  sons  ?  " 
'  Your  grandfather's." 

"  An  uncle  of  mine  in  your  robber  band  ?    You  are  jok 
ing,  my  uncles  are  both  dead." 
'  This  is  a  colored  man." 

Colonel  Brydges  blanched,  coughed,  and  answered 
after  a  pause: 

"  Captain  Brown,  we  are  digressing.  My  business 
here  is  to  request  you  to  disband  your  company,  and 


362  Time  and  Chance 

have  all  of  your  men    return    to  their  peaceful  occupa 
tions. " 

"  And  the  Missourians  ?" 

I  have  orders  to  scatter  all  armed  and  organized 
bodies  of  men  in  Kansas.  If  the  Missourians  march  into 
Kansas,  I  will  send  them  back." 

"  And  after  I  lay  down  my  arms,  what  then  ? " 
No  one  will  molest  you." 

But  the  Territorial  Legislature  has  offered  a  reward 
for  my  capture !  " 

"  I  know,  but  they  will  withdraw  it  if  you  will  agree 
to  leave  the  Territory.  In  fact,  they  want  no  more- 
bloodshed,  and  if  you  will  say  quits,  they  will.  Will  you 
do  it  ?" 

Yes,  but  you  have  no  authority  to  speak  for  the  local 
government  ? " 

"  No,  but  I  will  go  with  you  to  see  the  Governor— I 
am  sure  he  will  grant  you  amnesty." 

And  if  he  does,  will  you  use  your  force  to  keep  back 
the  invaders  at  election  time  ? " 

I  surely  will." 

"  And  you  know  what  that  means  ?  " 
"  No,  what  ?" 

It  means  that  there  are  seven  hundred  more  Free- 
State  men  in  this  Territory  than  Pro-Slavery,  and  that 
Kansas  will  be  a  Free  State.     We  have  won  our  fight." 
"  All  right!     I  congratulate  you.     I  will  see  the  Gov 
ernor  first,  alone,  and  make  an  appointment  with  him  to 
receive  you." 
'  Very  well." 
'  Then  that  's  all  for  this  time  ?  " 

I  believe  so — good-day!  " 

They  shook  hands  there  on  the  prairie.  One  rode  one 
way  and  one  the  other. 


Love  Ever  Fights  for  Freedom  363 

CHAPTER    XV 

LOVE    EVER    FIGHTS   FOR    FREEDOM 

THREE  days  afterward,  following  the  road  that 
skirted  the  ravine,  they  went — Old  Man  Brown 
and  Colonel  Brydges.  Brown  in  rusty  jeans,  rustier  than 
ever  from  much  rough  weather;  on  the  pommel  of  his 
saddle  a  Sharpe's  rifle  and  in  the  belt,  buckled  outside  of 
his  coat,  two  pistols  and  a  dirk — all  dangling  handy, 
worn  for  quick  use  and  not  for  show. 

Behind  these  two  horsemen  rode  two  more — Salmon 
Brown  and  the  Colonel's  orderly.  Young  Brown  was 
arrayed  like  unto  his  father;  he  carried  the  heavy  rifle, 
with  a  jaunty  touch,  that  seemed  to  match  the  solitary 
eagle's  feather  worn  in  his  slouch  hat — a  sly  bit  of  irony 
for  the  benefit  of  the  tightly,  brightly  buttoned  orderly. 
But  the  orderly  and  Salmon  were  soon  on  good  terms; 
youth  quickly  makes  friends,  and  Uncle  Sam's  soldier 
boy  had  a  wholesome  respect  for  a  man  who  was  one  of 
forty  to  hold  at  bay  two  hundred;  and  Salmon  assumed 
that  the  other  must  be  a  brave  lad  or  the  Colonel  would 
not  have  chosen  him  for  this  office.  They  laughed  and 
joked,  as  young  men  will  who  are  much  under  the  heel  of 
discipline  and  are  suddenly  turned  out  to  play  with  none 
to  reprove.  They  rode  full  fifty  yards  behind  their  superi 
ors,  and  as  Salmon  chatted  he  balanced  the  rifle  with  a 
single  fore  finger  and  ran  his  eye  across  the  prairie  this 
way  and  that  for  any  chance  foe.  There  was  a  price  on 
his  father's  head  and  a  warrant  of  arrest  out  for  himself. 

And  as  the  young  men  behind  told  tales  of  strife,  the 
two  men  who  rode  ahead  conversed  on  more  earnest 
themes. 

"  Yes,  my  mother  is  a  regular  fanatic  on  the  subject  of 
emancipation.  When  I  left  home  to  go  to  West  Point, 


364  Time  and  Chance 

I  was  nearly  as  bad  as  she — I  suppose  I  drank  it  in  in 
babyhood,  but  once  established  in  the  army,  I  saw  the 
futility  of  her  work  and  wrote  her  trying  to  dissuade  her 
from  the  fruitless  task." 

"  And  did  you  succeed  ?  " 

"  Succeed  ?     Ha,  she  argued  me  into  silence." 

"  But  you  forget  that  I  am  engaged  in  exactly  the 
same  work!  " 

"  Oh,  no,  you  're  not — this  business  here  is  different. 
You  only  want  home  rule  for  Kansas.'  " 

'  Yes,  but  the  Southrons  call  me  a  slave-stealer." 

"  I  know,  they  think  you  are  a  robber,  but  brigands 
are  often  only  exiled  saints.  If  law  pushes  a  man  too 
far,  he  loses  respect  for  all  law  and  then  is  an  anarchist. 
Now  all  you  want  is  that  settlers  in  Kansas  should  make 
their  own  laws.  You  object  to  illegal  elections — and  the 
reason  you  have  defied  the  laws  now  is  only  because 
these  laws  were  made  by  a  fraudulent  Legislature.  Am 
I  right  ?  " 

"  You  certainly  are." 

"  Well,  this  is  a  private  talk,  mind  you,  not  official ;  so 
I  say  confidentially  that  in  Washington  they  prefer 
Kansas  should  be  a  Southern  State,  with  all  it  implies. 
For  one  thing,  it  means  two  Southern  Senators.  Now 
there  are  sixteen  Free  States  and  fifteen  Slave  States — -two 
more  are  needed  to  preserve  the  balance  of  power.  But 
they  cannot  afford  to  wink  openly  at  a  corrupted  ballot 
box.  'Cause  why  ?  the  whole  North  might  get  right  up 
and  howl — no  telling  what  might  happen — it  might  even 
come  to  civil  war.  Now  you  have  kicked  up  such  a  row 
out  here  and  attracted  so  much  attention  that  the  Gov 
ernment  is  obliged  to  step  in  and  put  you  down,  and  if 
she  puts  you  down  she  must  keep  Missouri  out." 
I  see." 


Love  Ever  Fights  for  Freedom  365 

'  We  do  not  want  to  fight  you,  for  that  would  make 
all  Yankeedom  look  on  you  as  a  martyr;  and  on  the 
other  hand,  if  you  should  refuse  to  lay  down  your  arms, 
it  makes  treason  of  it.  Now,  my  mother  does  not  confide 
in  me  very  much  since  we  disagreed  on  the  slave  issue 
some  years  ago,  but  I  'm  quite  positive  that  she  would 
not  encourage  you  to  keep  up  this  fight." 
Would  n't  she  ?  " 

"  No." 

The  old  man  took  a  letter  out  of  his  breast  pocket  and 
handing  it  to  Colonel  Brydges,  said:  "  Read  it  aloud." 
The  Colonel  read : 

"  When  you  strike  for  the  right  in  Kansas,  Public  Opinion 
shakes  off  her  lethargy,  comes  forward  to  stay  your  arm,  and 
the  South  cowers.  When  you  have  done  your  work  there, 
smuggle  a  small  band  of  determined  men  into  Virginia  and 
strike  slavery  a  sudden  blow,  then  retreat  to  the  friendly 
mountains.  The  South  will  be  staggered,  yet  she  will  pursue. 
But  instantly  the  North  will  awake  and  come  to  your  rescue, 
and  better  still,  the  slaves  will  arise.  The  snow-ball  will  grow 
as  it  rolls.  In  a  year,  two,  three,  or  four,  the  South  will  be 
free  and  the  General  Government  will  endorse  by  Legislative 
Enactment  the  work  which  you  have  begun. 

"  Do  you  know  that  a  few  Spartans,  flitting  from  point  to  point 
in  the  mountains,  dictated  a  policy  to  all  Greece  ?  Do  you 
know  that  Scotland  was  never  subjugated,  simply  because  a 
few  clansmen  who  knew  the  crags  could  stand  off  regiments  ? 
Do  you  know  that  in  the  mountains  that  separate  France  from 
Spain  are  tribes  that  have  for  centuries  successfully  defied  the 
armies  of  both  countries  ?  Do  you  know  how  Napoleon  left 
Elba  with  a  handful  of  men,  and  marched  into  Paris  with  a 
million  at  his  back  ?  Do  you  know  how  Schmeyl  in  Russia 
dictated  to  the  Czar  from  a  cave  ?  and  last,  but  not  least,  have 
you  forgotten  how  Nat  Turner,  a  black  man,  held  out  for  six 
weeks  against  the  State  of  Virginia  ? 


366  Time  and  Chance 

"  When  my  beloved  son  was  but  a  lad,  it  was  my  dream  that 
he  should  be  the  leader  who  would  '  make  my  people  free,' 
and  I  sent  hmi  to  West  Point  to  learn  military  tactics.  It  was 
a  mistake,  but  I  did  not  know  then  that  army  life  means  in 
tellectual  and  moral  stagnation.  Like  a  University  it  often 
irons  men  out  to  one  dead  level  and  extinguishes  all  masterly 
individuality.  My  son  is  a  worthy  man,  and  I  love  him  with 
a  true  mother's  love,  but  he  is  not  great  enough  to  dare  all  and 
win  all.  For  his  has  been  a  happy  and  successful  life — he  has 
never  received  his  baptism  of  fire. 

"  And  so  I  turn  to  you,  the  lover  of  my  girlhood,  and  on  you 
I  fix  my  earnest  gaze,  for  I  know  you  are  one  raised  by  God 
to  do  this  work.  Moses  was  eighty  when  he  led  the  Children 
of  Israel  out  of  bondage — do  not  tell  me  you  are  too  old! 

"  You  and  I  have  left  romance  far  behind — what  is  this  life 
to  us — a  breath — a  vapor!  We  have  nothing  to  lose;  we  have 
all  to  gain! 

"  Remember  the  sword  of  Gideon!  " 

Brydges  read  the  letter  straight  through  in  a  voice  that 
grew  husky  towards  the  last.  He  handed  the  missive 
back  and  turned  his  face  to  hide  the  unsoldierly  emotion 
that  was  shaking  him.  They  rode  in  silence  for  an  hour. 
'  The  dear  old  mother!  "  at  last  broke  out  the  officer 
abruptly,  "  the  dear  old  mother  needs  some  one  to  care 
for  her — I  must  resign  so  as  to  be  near  her." 

But  is  she  right  in  those  historical  instances  ?  " 
Yes,  I  suppose  so,  but  that  is  neither  here  nor  there. 
Why,  she  is  such  a  fanatic  that  if  she  were  younger  she 
might  take  the  field  herself!  " 

And  indeed,  women  have  done  it  before." 
I  know — you    refer   to   Joan  of  Arc,    but   she   was 
crazy !  " 

"  And  successful!  " 
'  Well,  possibly." 


Love  Ever  Fights  for  Freedom  367 

"  And  it  was  women  who  went  out  from  Paris  and 
captured  the  palace  at  Versailles — women  who  precipi 
tated  the  French  Revolution." 

'  How  comes  it  you  know  anything  about  the  palace 
at  Versailles,  Captain  Brown  ?  "  said  the  other  with  a 
smile,  feeling  that  the  conversation  was  getting  too 
serious. 

"  I  Ve  been  there." 
'  What,  you  've  been  to  France  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  When  ?" 

'  Three  years  ago ;  I  've  carefully  gone  over  most  of 
the  battlefields  of  Europe." 

4  Then  my  mother's  ideas  are  not  new  to  you  ? " 

"  No." 

"  And  has  she  written  them  to  you  before  ?  " 

"  No,  but  thought  is  in  the  air.  Do  you  believe  in 
thought  transference  ?  " 

"  Not  I;  still,  minds  dwelling  on  the  same  subjects 
will,  of  course,  often  come  to  like  conclusions.  But  do 
you  know  who  that  man  is  coming  up  over  the  knoll  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  know  him." 
4  Well,  who  is  he  ?  " 

"  The  newly  appointed  sheriff." 

4<  Right  you  are." 

Brydges  smiled,  but  the  old  man  did  not  change  his 
expression  in  the  slightest.  One  hand  went  up  to  his 
pistol  belt. 

The  sheriff  stopped,  saluted,  rode  up  on  one  side  of 
Brown  and  remarked  that  he  had  thought  best  to  come 
out  and  ride  in  with  the  little  party  to  avert  any  possible 
trouble  that  the  citizens  of  Lecompton  might  make. 
Brown  thanked  him  for  his  thoughtfulness. 

44  By   the  way,"    remarked   the   sheriff  as  they  rode 


368  Time  and  Chance 

forward,  "  by  the  way,  Captain   Brown,  you   of  course 
know  that  the  offer  of  a  reward  of  a  thousand  dollars  for 
your  arrest  is  still  valid  ?  " 
'  Yes,  I  know." 
'  Well,  I  have  the  warrant  now  in  my  pocket." 

"  You  'd  better  keep  it  there,  Mr.  Sheriff!  " 

"  Why  ?" 

If  you  take  it  out,  I  '11  kill  you." 
Oh,  I  was  only  joking." 
'  You  are  unwise  to  joke  with  death." 

They  reached  the  village  of  Lecompton,  and  were  well 
stared  at  by  the  citizens,  but  no  incivility  was  offered. 

Governor  Geary,  who  had  recently  been  appointed, 
came  forward  and  greeted  Captain  Brown  as  one  gentle 
man  greets  another. 

Shannon  had  been  so  dictatorial  to  the  Northern  immi 
grants,  and  so  hand-and-glove  with  the  Southrons,  that 
the  relationship  between  the  two  parties  was  growing 
very  much  strained.  Neighbor  did  not  trust  neighbor, 
and  the  whole  Territory  was  a  tinder  box  ready  to  ex 
plode  at  a  touch. 

Under  these  conditions  Congress  had  wisely  relieved 
Shannon  and  put  a  more  diplomatic  man  in  his  place. 

Geary  had  a  fairly  just  and  judicial  view  of  the  situa 
tion.  Personally,  he  confessed  to  Brown  that  he  sympa 
thized  with  the  slave-holder,  but  he  was  there  to  act  as 
Governor  of  the  whole  people;  he  wished  to  see  justice 
dealt  impartially  and  hoped  that  prosperity  would  come 
to  all. 

But  there  was  one  condition  he  insisted  on,  and  that 
was  that  John  Brown  and  all  of  his  sons  should  leave  the 
Territory.  Their  presence  there,  he  argued,  was  a  con 
tinual  reminder  of  what  had  gone  before.  In  fact,  the 
Browns  had  struck  such  fear  and  hatred  into  the  hearts 


Love  Ever  Fights  for  Freedom  369 

of  the  Southrons  that  there  was  danger  that  under  the 
influence  of  some  undue  excitement,  whiskey — for  in 
stance — there  would  be  a  thirst  for  revenge  and  the 
flames  would  burst  forth  afresh.  If  they  would  only  go, 
he  would  issue  a  proclamation,  setting  forth  the  facts  and 
warning  Missourians  to  keep  to  their  own  side  of  the 
line,  and  cautioning  all  parties  to  maintain  the  peace. 
This  would  be  assuring  to  North  and  South  alike  and 
bring  confidence  to  all  concerned. 

Brown  listened  patiently  to  the  strong  and  logical  ap 
peal.  He  smiled  with  a  half-smile  of  satisfaction  when 
Governor  Geary  admitted  that  the  Browns  had  practi 
cally  carried  the  State  for  freedom. 

"  And  now  will  you  consent  to  leave  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  will  go,  but  my  sons  are  land  owners  here — I 
want  them  to  stay." 

So  a  compromise  was  effected,  whereby  Brown  was  to 
leave  the  Territory  within  ten  days;  his  men  were  to 
disband  and  return  to  their  homes;  amnesty  was  to  be 
granted  for  all  past  offenses;  and  none  but  actual  settlers 
who  had  been  in  the  Territory  three  months  should  be 
allowed  to  vote  at  future  elections.  This  was  put  in  the 
form  of  a  stipulation  and  duly  signed. 

That  peace  had  been  brought  about  on  equitable  terms 
was  a  matter  of  congratulation  to  all  concerned.  A 
courier  was  sent  out  to  carry  the  good  news;  and  Captain 
Brown  and  Colonel  Brydges  accepted  Governor  Geary's 
hospitality  for  the  night. 

The  next  day  they  started  back  for  camp  with  much 
lighter  hearts  than  they  had  brought  thitherward. 

Near  nightfall,  when  nearing  Brown's  camp,  they  took 
a  short  cut  across  the  prairie.  A  woman  came  out  of  a 
cabin  and  called  to  them  that  there  was  the  dead  body 
of  a  man  lying  in  the  road  a  half-mile  to  the  north.  They 


370  Time  and  Chance 

turned  back,  and,  on  reaching  the  spot  indicated,  found 
the  body  lying  face  down  in  a  pool  of  blood. 

Brown  dismounted  and  turned  the  man  over. 

It  was  his  son  Fred.  He  was  not  dead,  but  a  tearing 
wound  in  his  side  from  a  charge  of  buckshot  told  that 
the  moments  of  his  life  were  few. 


CHAPTER    XVI 

CAPTAIN  CARVER  HOLDS  A  RECEPTION 

THE  man  who  had  lain  in  wait  and  shot  Fred  Brown 
was  Martin  White,  a  preacher  of  the  Methodist 
Church,  South,  a  member  of  the  Territorial  Legislature 
and  a  citizen  of  considerable  prominence.  No  arrest  was 
made;  the  sheriff  putting  forth  the  plea  that  White  did 
not  know  that  peace  had  been  concluded.  White  did  not, 
however,  accept  any  such  excuse  for  his  act,  but  openly 
boasted  that  he  "  had  done  for  one  of  the  Browns." 

Not  long  after,  White  was  found  dead  in  his  own  door- 
yard  ;  the  ball  from  a  Sharpe's  rifle  had  struck  him  square 
between  the  eyes,  and  the  light  of  his  life  was  snuffed  out. 

John  Brown's  band  had  separated  and  gone  to  their 
homes.  The  old  man  was  at  Osawatomie  with  Ellen, 
Wealthy,  and  his  grandchildren,  to  bid  them  good-bye 
before  taking  his  departure  for  his  old  home  at  North 
Elba,  New  York.  While  there,  this  letter  reached  him 
from  Captain  Carver  of  Westport : 

WESTPOKT,  MISSOURI,  Sep.  10,  1856. 
To  OLD  MAN  BROWN, 

King  of  the  Kansas  Yankees: 

So  you  have  got  to  git  at  last!  We  feel  so  sorry  you  are 
going  to  leave  us — but  when  the  Governor  says  you  have  got 


Captain  Carver  Holds  a  Reception         371 

to  go,  and  the  U.  S.  Army  says  so  too,  we  can  only  say  fare 
well,  and  may  the  Devil  take  you  ! 

But  slavery  is  not  dead  in  Missouri  and  it  never  will  die,  for 
we  are  not  Puritans,  but  sensible  folks.  There  is  to  be  an 
auction  of  niggers  here  next  Thursday,  come  over  if  you  can 
— the  boys  will  make  it  pleasant  for  you. 

Yours  truly,  CHARLES  CARVER. 

Brown  smiled  grimly  at  this  insulting,  exultant  letter, 
and  passed  it  over  for  his  children  to  read. 

I  would  like  to  accept  his  invitation,"  he  said,  and 
then  the  matter  was  put  out  of  his  mind. 

That  night  a  black  man  came  to  Osawatomie,  and 
made  his  way  to  where  Old  Man  Brown  was  stopping. 
The  negro  was  so  awed  on  coming  into  the  presence  of 
the  man  of  whom  he  had  heard  so  much  that  he  could 
scarcely  speak. 

"  Where  did  you  come  from  ?  "  asked  Brown. 
Wes'port,  san !  " 
And  to  whom  do  you  belong  ?" 
Captain  Carvah,  sah." 
And  you  say  he  's  going  to  sell  you  ? " 
'  Yes,  sah,   on  Thursday,  sah,  an'  my  wife  too,  sah, 
an'  my  chillern — we  may  all  go  diff'rent  ways,  sah!  " 
"  And  why  are  you  to  be  sold  ?  " 

"  The  Cap'n  he  say  Kansas  is  to  be  a  Free  State,  sah, 
an'  he  's  too  close  to  the  bordah,  sah." 

Brown  smiled  :  "  Yes,  Kansas  is  to  be  a  Free  State,  and 
he  is  a  leetle — just  a  leetle  too  close  to  make  slave-hold 
ing  safe-.  So  you  are  all  to  be  sold  and  sent  back  to 
Mississippi  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sah,  there  's  sev'ral  spectators  there  now— it  's 
to  be  a  big  sale.  Can't  you  help  me  to  git  my  wife  and 
chillern  away,  sah?  We  will  b'long  to  you  an'  work  for 
you  till  we  die!  " 


372  Time  and  Chance 

'  I  think  I  '11  help  you  get  away.  Carver  has  invited 
me  over,  and  if  you  will  just  hide  in  this  cellar  until 
evening,  we  shall  see  what  we  shall  see." 

Night  came. 

Six  men  and  the  runaway  negro  were  driven  in  a  two- 
horse  farm  wagon  out  of  Osawatomie  across  the  prairie 
towards  the  east.  When  within  two  miles  of  Westport, 
the  wagon  and  driver  were  sent  back. 

The  men  moved  on  in  the  darkness,  piloted  across  the 
fields  by  the  negro,  to  the  goodly  residence  of  Captain 
Carver,  planter,  politician,  stock-raiser  and  slave  owner. 
His  house  was  a  mile  from  the  village,  up  on  the  hillside, 
surrounded  by  its  barns,  granaries  and  slave  quarters. 

The  negro  went  ahead  to  pacify  the  dogs,  and  notify 
the  negroes  to  keep  to  their  cabins. 

Old  Man  Brown  had  a  diagram  of  the  house  in  his 
pocket  and  a  copy  of  it  in  his  head.  He  had  located 
each  room  that  must  be  looked  after;  and  his  men  in 
their  stocking-feet,  with  dark  lanterns,  entered  the  doors, 
open  and  unlocked,  according  to  the  custom  of  the  times, 
and  held  the  prisoners  safely  in  their  beds  by  the 
argument  of  a  cocked  pistol. 

It  was  a  sleek,  clean,  quiet,  gentlemanly  piece  of  work. 
Not  a  shot  was  fired — there  was  no  violence.  The  in 
mates  of  the  house,  male  and  female,  pulled  the  bed 
clothes  over  their  heads,  inwardly  cursing  or  commending 
their  souls  to  God,  as  the  case  might  be. 

Meantime,  the  house  was  searched  for  money,  and 
nearly  five  hundred  dollars  found.  The  negroes  had 
hitched  a  stout  team  to  a  spring  wagon,  thrown  hurriedly 
in  quantities  of  hams,  bacon,  sacks  of  corn  meal  and  po 
tatoes;  the  negro  women  and  children  were  tumbled  in, 
with  all  the  bed-clothes  that  were  not  pulled  over  the 
heads  of  the  luckless  white  folks;  eight  thoroughbred 


Captain  Carver  Holds  a  Reception         373 

horses  were  saddled  and  bridled,  so  far  as  saddles  would 
go ;  and  after  a  parting  threat  that  no  person  should  ven 
ture  his  head  out  from  under  a  quilt  for  a  full  hour  under 
pain  of  death,  the  cavalcade  moved  away — twelve  negroes 
in  all,  ten  valuable  horses,  five  hundred  dollars  in  money, 
and  provisions  for  a  fortnight. 

When  the  sun  came  up  out  of  the  eastern  prairie,  a 
great  glowing  red  ball  of  fire  in  the  white  mist,  they  were 
thirty  miles  from  Westport,  and  in  a  land  of  Free-State 
people — people  who  would  have  fought  for  them  had  the 
pursuer  pursued.  The  horses  were  given  a  slack  rein. 
In  forty-eight  hours  the  Nebraska  line  was  reached.  Two 
days  more  and  they  were  in  Iowa. 

Here  they  stopped  to  rest  for  a  space,  and  when  camp 
was  again  broken,  only  Old  Man  Brown  and  Jim  Slivers 
accompanied  the  twelve  negroes;  the  sons  must  all  re 
main  in  Kansas,  for  the  "salutary  effect"  of  their 
presence.  The  other  men  turned  back  on  foot  and  made 
their  way  into  Kansas  to  live  the  lives  of  honest  and 
peaceful  citizens. 

And  so  Old  Man  Brown,  with  his  negroes  and  his 
horses  and  his  five  hundred  dollars,  moved  on  to  the 
North  and  East.  And  the  question  naturally  arises  how 
a  conscientious  man,  as  Brown  surely  was,  could  justify 
himself  in  taking  other  people's  property  in  this  way  ? 

The  answer  is  plain :  as  for  the  negroes,  they  were 
God's  children  as  much  as  though  they  were  white,  and 
no  man  had  a  right  to  hold  them  in  bondage  and  give 
them  stripes  as  legal  tender  for  services  rendered.  Hav 
ing  worked,  they  were  entitled  to  wages;  at  the  smallest 
calculation  there  was  due  them  a  horse  apiece,  and  the 
five  hundred  dollars  in  money  was  simply  to  pay 
expenses. 

Only  three  of  the  negroes  were  full-grown  men;  they 


374  Time  and  Chance 

were  armed,  and  of  course,  the  old  man  and  Jim  Slivers 
were  never  without  a  rifle  within  easy  reach.  As  they 
marched,  Brown  did  not  try  to  conceal  their  identity. 
And  after  a  week  he  openly  proclaimed  it  in  every  town, 
village  and  hamlet  as  they  passed. 

'  They  were  once  slaves,"  he  would  say.  '  I  stole 
them  away  and  am  taking  them  through  to  Canada." 
And  the  crowd  would  send  up  a  cheer  for  "  Brown — Osa- 
watomie  Brown." 

Across  Iowa  they  moved,  thence  into  Illinois.  North 
ern  Illinois  was  settled  largely  with  New  England  peo 
ple,  and  here  ovations  were  tendered  them,  and  often 
deputations  of  maidens  in  flowing  white,  carrying  green 
branches,  came  out  to  meet  them  in  wagons,  with  men 
on  horseback.  Provisions  were  tendered  them  without 
money  and  without  price. 

Indiana  was  reached,  then  Michigan,  which  was  prac 
tically  another  New  England,  and  when  the  November 
winds  began  to  blow  chill,  they  had  come  to  Detroit,  all 
without  sickness  or  disaster,  and  the  five  hundred  dollars 
intact,  for  the  gifts  given  them  had  exceeded  the 
expenses. 

The  money  was  divided  among  the  negroes.  The 
team  that  drew  the  wagon,  with  the  entire  camping  out 
fit,  was  given  to  the  black  man  who  had  suggested  the 
exodus.  The  eight  horses  were  unanimously  voted  to  be 
the  property  of  Old  Man  Brown  and  the  jovial  Jim 
Slivers,  who  had  cracked  jokes  from  Kansas  to  Canada. 

After  the  refugees  had  been  ferried  across  and  were 
safely  in  Windsor,  Canada,  a  solemn  service  of  thanks 
giving  was  held,  and  prayers  ascended  to  God  for  their 
deliverance  out  of  the  land  of  bondage. 

And  taking  sorrowful  leave  of  these  black  men  and 
women  with  whom  they  had  lived  as  one  happy  family 


Captain  Carver  Holds  a  Reception         375 

for  full  two  months,  John  Brown  and  Jim  Slivers  took 
the  ferry  back  across  to  Detroit. 

Each  riding  a  horse,  and  followed  by  the  six  other 
faithful  steeds,  they  rode  down  to  Toledo  and  on  to 
Cleveland.  Here  they  were  among  old  friends — friends 
who  knew  them  well  and  who  had  known  them  for  many 
years. 

In  the  two  daily  newspapers  Brown  advertised  that  on 
a  certain  day  at  noon  he  would  sell  "  eight  horses  taken 
from  Missouri  slave-holders  by  force,  as  payment  for 
wages  due  black  men."  The  sale  was  to  occur  in  the 
public  square  of  the  city  of  Cleveland.  The  announce 
ment  also  set  forth  that  the  money  which  the  horses 
brought  would  be  used  to  further  the  cause  of  Emanci 
pation. 

The  unprecedented  boldness  of  the  bulletin  attracted  a 
large  crowd. 

Seated  on  his  thoroughbred  stallion,  Brown  told, 
simply  and  plainly,  how  he  had  gained  possession  of  the 
horses.  He  cautioned  prospective  buyers  concerning 
the  defect  in  title  and  also  gave  a  short  sketch  of  his  ex 
periences  in  Kansas.  The  crowd  cheered  and  when 
quiet  was  restored  the  horses  were  sold  to  the  highest 
bidder.  And  be  it  said,  in  token  of  the  temper  of  the 
bidders,  that  the  animals  brought  nearly  double  their 
actual  worth. 

"  The  Lord  is  on  our  side!  "  said  Old  Man  Brown— 
Osawatomie  Brown. 


BOOK  FIVE 


377 


CHAPTER  I 

FORCE,  FANATICISM  AND  SENTIMENT 

KANSAS  was  still  the  scene  of  strife;  Brown  was  will 
ing  it  should  be  so.  Let  the  people  look  that  way 
and  let  them  view  the  inhumanities  that  would  spread 
over  the  entire  North,  like  the  plagues  of  Egypt,  if  slave 
owners  only  dared  !  Another  thing — so  long  as  the  public 
gaze  was  directed  to  Kansas,  it  was  diverted  from  other 
directions. 

This  shrewd  old  man  knew  that  peace  does  not  come  in 
a  day— it  takes  time  for  wounds  to  heal,  for  revenge  to 
die,  for  hate  to  sleep.  Kansas  was  free,  yes,  in  name, 
but  not  in  fact.  Painful  days  of  reconstruction  must  fol 
low;  and  in  this  interval  there  would  be  many  men  who 

did  not  know  that  peace  had  been  declared,"  and  these 
men  would  again  and  again  tear  open  the  bleeding 
wounds  and  some  would  pay  the  penalty.  But  freedom, 
full,  complete  freedom  would  come!  Brown's  faith  fal 
tered  not,  nor  blanched  ;  his  determination  did  not  waver. 
Freedom  would  come  to  Kansas!  Aye,  and  to  the  en 
tire  country.  Sixteen  of  the  States  were  free:  the  other 
fifteen  soon  would  be.  God  had  decreed  it! 

These  sixteen  Free  States  contained  over  three-fifths  of 
the  entire  population  of  the  country,  two-thirds  of  the 
wealth,  nine-tenths  of  the  manufactories,  four-fifths  of 
the  newspapers;  the  North  printed  all  the  books.  In  the 
Free  States,  illiteracy  among  American-born  was  a  curi 
osity.  In  the  South,  for  a  black  man  to  read  and  write 

379 


380  Time  and  Chance 

was  a  crime,  and  one-third  of  the  white  population  were 
as  ignorant  as  the  negroes. 

Only  when  out  of  reach  of  the  clutch  of  the  American 
eagle,  and  under  the  protection  of  the  British  lion,  was  a 
black  man  safe  in  the  New  World.  And  this  in  America, 
of  all  places !  The  United  States  of  America,  the  boasted 
birthplace  of  liberty,  whose  Constitution  flatly  states  that 

all  men  are  born  free  and  equal,"  America,  the  home 
of  the  oppressed,  and  the  place  of  refuge  for  the  perse 
cuted — that  America  should  still  retain  this  relic  of  dark 
ness,  when  even  Europe  had  in  shame  discarded  it,  was 
an  affront  to  High  Heaven.  Cannibalism  was  gracious 
compared  to  slavery;  cannibalism  fed  on  the  dead,  but 
slavery  sucked  the  blood  of  the  living. 

A  leader  was  needed !  a  leader  who  would  sound  the 
trumpet  and  cry  aloud,  "Freedom,  Freedom,  in  the  name 
of  the  Lord!  " 

The  sixteen  Northern  States  would  stand  at  his  back 
and  give  their  young  men  and  their  treasure;  the  four 
million  slaves  would  arise  and  the  one-third  of  the  white 
population  of  the  South,  who  were  not  slave  owners, 
would  at  least  keep  hands  off;  and  Victory,  glorious  Vic 
tory  would  come. 

A  leader  was  needed;  a  leader  to  sound  the  trumpet 
that  would  arouse  the  sleeping  North. 

John  Brown  had  pondered  these  things  in  his  heart; 
for  years  he  had  thought  of  scarcely  aught  else.  He  had 
listened  for  the  Voice.  It  came,  and  it  said  :  "  Thou  art 
the  man!  "  And  surely  it  must  be  so.  Destiny  had  de 
nied  him  peace  at  home,  had  robbed  him  of  woman's 
sweet  companionship,  had  wrecked  his  financial  plans  and 
played  havoc  with  all  his  worldly  ambitions.  Providence 
had  been  only  fitting  him  for  this  great  work  during  all 
the  long,  restless,  unhappy  years. 


Force,  Fanaticism  and  Sentiment          381 

And  Brown  knew  this  fact,  that  stands  out  against  the 
dark  background  of  history  like  a  star:  Only  through 
the  poor,  the  outcast  and  the  despised  can  society  ever 
be  reconstructed.  Ruskin  states  this  truth,  but  John 
Brown  did  not  get  his  logic  from  John  Ruskin.  Faith ! 
't  is  highly  probable  he  never  heard  of  Ruskin,  although 
Ruskin  came  to  hear  of  him,  and  paid  to  his  memory  a 
tribute,  ri<ki  and  rare. 

The  earth  held  nothing  for  Brown  —  he  had  been 
stripped  of  all,  and  the  holding  of  all  worldly  ties  so 
loosely  had  given  him  an  iron  courage,  a  bravery  that 
knew  no  bounds.  He  had  many  times  looked  into  the 
very  eyes  of  death  there  in  the  West,  and  he  had  never 
faltered.  Standing  out  on  the  prairie  unprotected,  he 
had  answered  shot  for  shot.  Not  once  had  he  been 
scathed,  not  once  had  he  felt  an  impulse  to  turn  back. 
In  every  instance  he  had  come  off  victorious  when  he 
had  met  the  foe,  face  to  face.  He  believed  in  Fate. 

In  fair  fight,  with  ten  men,  he  had  defeated  a  hundred. 
And  he  had  left  Kansas  simply  because  he  had  done  all 
that  his  presence  there  could  do — time  alone  could  work 
out  the  rest. 

The  God  of  Battles  was  with  him ! 

The  outdoor  life,  the  healthful  fare,  the  change  from 
cheerless  plain  and  savage  scenes  to  peace,  plenty  and 
applause,  worked  wonders  in  John  Brown.  His  eye  took 
on  the  luster  of  youth,  his  step  became  elastic  instead  of 
plodding,  his  form  was  strong  and  vigorous. 

He  had  tasted  success!  what  is  so  sanitary  as  success  ? 
It  means  quickened  pulse,  deep  breathing,  good  diges 
tion,  sound  sleep.  Brown  felt  younger  than  for  years. 
He  gazed  into  the  glass  and  saw  with  a  slight  shock  the 
long,  white  beard  of  a  patriarch — it  was  not  in  keeping 
with  his  young  heart!  He  had  the  physical  strength  of 


382  Time  and  Chance 

youth,  and  he  knew  in  his  soul  that  he  could  ride  farther, 
shoot  straighter,  endure  more  and  hit  harder  than  any 
man  of  thirty  who  could  be  found  on  the  streets  of  Cleve 
land.  And  this  is  what  pure  air,  pure  motives,  and 
purity  of  life  will  do  for  a  man.  He  never  touched 
tobacco,  nor  strong  drink,  and  in  eating  he  stopped  on  this 
side,  instead  of  going  to  that.  He  did  not  even  drink 
tea  and  coffee.  His  conscience  was  clear,  his  ambition 
high.  And  flavoring  it  all  was  this  feeling  of  power.  He 
had  looked  into  the  muzzles  of  loaded  guns  and  had  had 
them  turned  aside  at  his  word  of  command ;  he  had  dic 
tated  to  governors;  forced  issues  with  sheriffs  and  par 
leyed  successfully  with  United  States  officers. 

And  does  any  man  who  is  not  ripe  for  the  grave  admit 
even  in  the  sacred  silence  of  his  closet  that  he  has  lost 
his  "  manly  vigor  ?"  No  good  woman  was  ever  so  old 
but  that  she  was  sure  she  was  still  attractive  to  the  oppo 
site  sex.  The  man  in  whom  the  sense  of  chivalry  is  dead 
has  passed  to  a  point  where  the  undertaker  should  claim 
him.  Sexuality  is  the  law  of  gravitation  of  the  social 
world,  and  all  noble,  heroic  actions,  as  well  as  the  fine 
courtesies  of  life,  and  the  tendencies  that  make  up  the  art 
impulse,  have  their  rise  in  this:  the  loves  of  men  and 
women. 

John  Brown's  eye  was  clear,  his  breath  sweet,  his  teeth 
white,  his  form  erect,  but  his  beard — a  year's  growth- 
was  snowy  white.  He  took  a  second  look  in  the  glass 
and  straightway  hied  him  to  a  barber's. 

When  he  came  forth  he  had  lost  his  beard,  but  had 
gained  ten  years  in  life — in  looks,  at  least.  The  smooth- 
shaven  face  showed  the  firm  mouth,  the  strong  jaw,  and 
the  lines  of  care  were  less  deep  than  in  the  days  agone. 

He  bought  a  new  suit  of  clothes,  and  felt  an  inclination 
to  sneer  at  the  clerk  who  suggested  "  something  modest 


The  Plans  are  being  Perfected  383 

for  a  gentleman  getting  along  in  years."  The  suit  was 
gray,  with  brass  buttons,  after  the  manner  of  the  times. 

The  cartridge  belt,  the  two  trusty  pistols,  and  the  long, 
dangerous,  threatening  dirk  were  wrapped  up  and  placed 
in  a  valise.  The  rifle  was  packed  away  and  exchanged 
for  a  simple  walking  stick. 

His  appearance  no  longer  caused  people  to  turn  and 
stare  at  him  as  he  passed  along  the  streets;  no  small  boys 
followed  him,  and  he  smiled  grimly  to  himself  as  he 
thought  how  easy  it  would  be,  if  a  little  worldly  pros 
perity  should  come,  to  slip  back  into  mere  snug,  smug, 
complacent  respectability. 

But  he  had  a  purpose — a  great,  sublime  and  glorious 
purpose.  He  was  entering  on  the  plans  to  carry  this  pur 
pose  to  a  successful  conclusion.  Yet  the  plans  were  not 
quite  clear  in  his  own  mind  yet — all  in  a  sort  of  solution 
— he  needed  to  discuss  the  details  with  some  strong, 
clear,  sympathetic  soul.  The  bare  fact  of  explaining 
matters  to  a  friend  makes  them  clear  to  one's  self.  In 
truth,  it  requires  two  to  generate  an  idea. 

He  resolved  to  go  to  Cincinnati  and  see  Margaret 
Brydges. 

CHAPTER    II 
THE    PLANS   ARE    BEING    PERFECTED 

JIM    SLIVERS    was   delighted    to   know  that    John 
Brown   was  going  with  him  to   Cincinnati.     They 
took  the  southward  train  that  night. 

"  The  Missus,  she  never  know  you  in  the  new  togs," 
said  Jim. 

"  Mrs.  Brydges  has  not  seen  me  since  I  was  a  boy," 
said  Brown,  adjusting  his  cravat. 

"  Lordy,  is  that  so— why,  she  talks  of  you  heaps!  " 


384  Time  and  Chance 

That  is  simply  because  we  ran  the  '  underground  ' 
together,  and  wrote  letters  back  and  forth." 
"  An'  yet  never  see  each  other  ?  " 
"  No,  I  suggested  going  to  see  her  once  and  she  said 
it  was  hardly  necessary." 

But  you  're  going  now  ?  " 

'  Yes,  I  have  a  great  plan— a  great  plan,  Jim — I  have 
to  talk  it  over  with  her.  I  'm  going  to  free  all  the  slaves 
in  the  United  States." 

Lumety,  dumety,  dee — you  don't  say  ! 
Yes,  I  can't  explain  it  all  to  you — the  scheme  is  not 
yet  complete — but  in  a  year  I  will  strike  a  blow  that  will 
shake  the  institution  to  its  very  center!  " 
'  Where  do  I  come  in  ?  " 

"  Of  course,  you  are  going  to  help.     You  did  splendid 
service  in  Kansas." 

"  I  'spect  I  did — killed  five  men  in  one  night,  me  and 
Oliver — even  you  never  done  so  well!  " 

'  Jim,  never  you  mention  that  night's  work  again!" 
11  Why  ?" 

'  It  is  the  one  thing  on  our  Kansas  record  I  'm 
ashamed  of." 

"  But  when  folks  said  to  you,  face  to  face,  that  you 
done  it,  you  never  denied  it!  " 
'  True,  I  did  not." 

'  If  you  was  ashamed  of  it,  why  did  n't  you  say  it  was 
me  ?  " 

'  That  would  not  have  relieved  me  of  the  blame." 
"  But  it  would  ha'  give  me  the  credit." 
"  No  credit  should  be  claimed  for  murder." 

But  you  said  yourself  that  it  was  the  one  thing  that 
saved  Kansas — it  made  ev'ry  ruffian  shake  in  his  boots." 
"  And  so  it  did — but  it  was  inhuman  just  the  same. 
Come,  let  us  talk  of  something  else." 


The  Plans  are  being  Perfected  385 

"  All  right — we  '11  talk  of  that  money  you  got  for  the 
horses." 

'  Yes,  I  got  just  fifteen  hundred  dollars;  I  *m  going  to 
use  the  money  in  my  plan." 

Your  plan  to  free  all  the  niggers  what  is  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

'  Well,  I  'm  a  nigger,  an*  some  money  will  make  me 
feel  freer  than  I  do  now !  " 

Brown  turned  and  looked  at  the  fellow.  Jim  was 
showing  a  selfish  side  of  his  nature  that  he  had  never  be 
fore  revealed  in  Brown's  presence.  Brown  thought  a 
moment  and  it  came  over  him  that  possibly  Jim  had 
rights  which  he  had  not  fully  respected,  and  that  he  had 
hardly  treated  this  dusty,  rusty,  red-whiskered  little  man 
fairly.  Jim  had  been  loyalty  itself,  and  had  shown  a 
bravery  under  fire  and  elsewhere  that  was  most  admir 
able.  He  had  obeyed  orders — worse  than  that,  he  had 
exceeded  them !  To  be  sure,  his  intelligence  was  not 
far-reaching,  and  it  was  useless  to  explain  to  him  ex 
tended  plans,  but  in  an  emergency  he  was  invaluable.  In 
short,  it  came  over  Brown  that  if  the  whole  car  of  forty 
men  should  at  that  moment  turn  on  him  and  try  to  bring 
about  his  arrest,  Jim  would  spring  up  on  a  seat,  produce 
a  pistol  out  of  his  boot,  a  knife  out  of  his  sleeve,  and  put 
the  whole  crowd  to  flight. 

"  And  about — about  how  much  money  do  you  think  I 
should  give  you  ?  " 

'  I  won't  lie  to  you,  John  Brown — 

'  Very  well,  state  how  much  you  expect!  " 

' '  I  want  a  dollar  and  a  half  to  buy  a  present  for  Jennie. 

"  What  ?" 

"  A  dollar  and  a  half  for  a  gold-plated  ring  for  my  old 
woman." 

"  Here  's  five — get  a  solid  one!  "  said  Brown. 


386  Time  and  Chance 

Cincinnati  was  reached  late  in  the  evening.  Cincinnati, 
worthily  named  after  Cincinnatus,  who  left  his  plow  in 
the  field  to  go  fight  in  freedom's  cause. 

Perched  high  up  on  a  bluff,  commanding  a  view  of  the 
winding,  muddy  river  that  divided  the  Slave  State  from 
the  Free,  was  a  large  brick  house.  Once  a  suburban 
mansion,  but  now  without  the  many  touches  on  grounds 
and  surroundings  that  mark  the  home  of  ease  and  wealth. 
Down  in  the  valley,  factories — belching  black  smoke  from 
tall  chimneys — coal  docks,  machine  shops  and  engine 
houses  marred  the  once  quiet  view. 

And  this  big  house — relic  of  slavocracy — was  now  a 
school,  a  school  for  white  and  colored  alike.  And  this 
being  so,  it  was  mostly  a  school  for  colored.  The  pupils 
ranged  from  pickaninnies  a  year  old,  who  were  left  during 
the  day  while  their  mothers  went  out  washing,  to  woolly 
preachers  of  fifty,  who  had  preached  long  years  without 
knowing  how  to  read,  and  now  .became  as  little  children 
that  they  might  enter  the  supposed  kingdom  of  heaven 
where  knowledge  dwells.  Hard  and  stony,  these  old 
scholars  found  the  path  that  leads  to  learning.  Some  of 
them  after  a  year  only  got  as  far  as  c-a-t  and  d-o-g,  and 
there  they  stuck,  victims  of  arrested  development.  And 
yet  these  men  could  repeat  chapter  after  chapter  of  the 
Bible — with  occasional  improvements,  of  course — and  line 
off  hymns  of  marvelous  length,  and  if,  perchance,  mem 
ory  lapsed,  a  ready  wit  supplied  the  missing  line  and 
rhyme — a  foot  one  way  or  the  other,  what  of  that !  Yet 
with  tears  they  regretted  their  inability  to  read,  not  know 
ing  that  all  things  in  life  are  sold,  never  given ;  that  the 
law  of  compensation  never  rests  and  that  with  the  ability 
to  read  things  out  of  a  book,  Memory  would  in  jealousy 
flee  and  leave  only  the  slattern,  Recollection,  in  her  place. 

In  this   big  house  were  anywhere  from  five  to  forty 


The  Plans  are  being  Perfected  387 

pupils.  The  terms  began  any  time  and  never  ended. 
There  were  no  vacations  and  no  tuition  fees.  Those 
paid  who  could  and  those  who  could  not,  did  not.  No 
servants  were  employed,  save  Jennie  the  housekeeper, 
and  Jim  Slivers,  man  of  all  work.  Jennie  was  Jim's 
wife.  All  the  rest  of  the  work  was  done  by  the  help 
ful  hands  of  scholars.  Sometimes  these  scholars  stayed 
but  a  single  night,  packed  away  in  barn,  outhouse,  cellar, 
or  garret,  carted  off  in  clothes-hamper  like  Sir  John  Fal- 
staff — not  dumped  in  river,  but  carried  to  a  place  of 
safety,  and  then  piloted  by  the  Pleiades. 

This  old  house,  with  its  marks  of  decayed  gentility, 
could  be  plainly  seen  in  the  daylight  from  the  Kentucky 
side;  and  each  night,  all  the  night-time  through,  there 
burned,  side  by  side,  two  lights  in  the  attic  windows. 
What  though  angry  clouds  darkened  the  pole  star,  these 
lights  burned  bright,  a  beacon  beckoning  onward,  a 
promise  of  welcome!  Every  evening  at  sundown  for 
many  years,  the  mistress  of  the  house  had  trimmed  and 
lighted  these  lights;  at  day-break  she  put  them  out. 

This  house  was  a  refuge  to  the  oppressed,  a  home  for 
the  homeless.  Here  were  taught  not  only  the  three  R's, 
but  the  dignity  of  labor  and  the  excellence  of  cleanliness, 
and  right,  and  truth,  and  all  that  makes  for  righteousness. 

And  was  it  an  effort  thrown  on  the  idle  winds  for  these 
two  white-haired  women  thus  to  expend  their  time  and 
substance  ?  In  ministering  to  a  barbaric  people — a  peo 
ple  of  whom  it  was  argued  that  they  had  no  souls — was 
it  an  attempt  to  bale  out  the  ocean  with  a  spoon,  to  try  to 
educate  them  ?  Small  results  came,  very  small  indeed, 
for  all  those  years  of  patient  endeavor.  Society  held  its 
skirts  close  when  these  women  passed  by,  fearing  con 
tamination.  Their  money  grew  less  and  less  as  the  years 
passed;  no  honors  came  to  them;  in  history  their  names 


388  Time  and  Chance 

are  not  known ;  above  their  graves,  now  close  side  by 
side,  no  proud  monument  rears  its  granite  shaft. 

They  lived,  they  loved,  they  worked,  they  died,  they 
sleep.  Fanatics  ?  who  dares  say  it !  Heroes,  rather,  the 
Christ-Spirit  working  through  the  loving  mother-heart! 

"  See  those  two  lights — that  's  the  place — Lordy,  I  'm 
glad  to  see  it — what  '11  my  Jennie  say? — she  never 
'spects  I  'm  coming! 

They  had  left  the  station  and  followed  the  railroad 
track.  The  early  winter  night  was  gathering.  The  old 
man  looked  up  at  the  lights.  They  seemed  to  gleam  no 
welcome  for  him — he  fain  would  have  turned  back.  He, 
valiant  man  of  war,  undaunted  even  by  death,  now  hesi 
tated  at  thought  of  meeting  a  woman.  He  had  suddenly 
become  a  youth  again. 

They  climbed  the  hill,  and  passed  in  at  the  alley  gate 
behind  the  house — straight  in  at  the  kitchen  door  with 
out  knocking.  Jennie  was  there  busy  at  the  table,  wash 
ing  dishes.  Jim  stepped  up  behind  her,  placed  his  hands 
over  her  eyes  and  shouted,  "  Guess  who  it  is  ?  " 

She  "  guessed  "  who  it  was,  and  turning  quickly,  ap 
plied  the  soapy  wash-cloth  vigorously  to  his  face,  and  then, 
as  if  to  make  amends,  kissed  him  three  times  with  re 
sounding  Afri-American  smacks.  Brown  stood  still. 

Jennie  was  a  fine-looking  mulatto  woman,  whose 
smooth,  iron  gray  hair  gave  a  certain  dignity  to  her  dark 
face.  The  first  surprise  at  seeing  her  "  man,"  over,  she 
glanced  up  and  saw  this  tall  stranger  looking  on  inter 
estedly.  Hastily  pushing  Jim  to  one  side,  she  courtesied 
and  stepped  forward  to  receive  his  bidding,  not  knowing 
that  he  had  come  with  Jim. 

"  Guv'ner  Brown,  this  is  Missus  Slivers  —  Missus 
Slivers,  Gen'ral  Brown  of  Kansas." 

Jennie  suddenly  lost  her  assurance.      She  had  heard 


The  Plans  are  being  Perfected  389 

much  of  Brown,  and  his  virtues  as  related  by  Jim  were 
always  multiplied  by  ten.  In  fact,  all  of  the  heroic  inci 
dents  that  his  imagination  could  invent  were  fixed  on 
John  Brown,  and  numberless  deeds  of  daring  that  rightly 
belonged  to  others  were  transferred  to  his  credit,  when 
detailed  by  Jim. 

This  had  gone  on  for  so  many  years  that  Jennie  had 
come  to  think  of  Brown  as  a  mythical  being;  and  now 
that  she  was  suddenly  brought  face  to  face  with  him,  it 
was  like  getting  an  introduction  to  the  god  Mercury — 
only  Jennie  had  never  heard  of  Mercury. 

So  she  blushed — invisibly,  of  course — stammered,  hesi 
tated,  but  was  soon  put  at  ease  by  Brown's  taking  her 
hand  and  saying  in  a  very  matter-of-course  way  that  he 
was  glad  to  see  her. 

As  soon  as  Jennie  got  her  tongue,  she  began  to  chide 
her  husband  for  bringing  the  visitor  into  the  kitchen  in 
stead  of  ushering  him  into  the  parlor.  But  this  reproof 
was  cut  short  by  the  appearance  of  Mrs.  Brydges.  And 
now  it  was  Brown's  turn  to  blush,  stammer  and  hesitate. 
But  he,  too,  was  put  at  ease  by  Mrs.  Brydges's  taking  his 
hand  in  a  very  matter-of-course  way  and  saying  she  was 
pleased  to  see  him.  No  introduction  was  required;  she 
saw  Jim;  she  recognized  Brown. 

'  My  son  is  here,  Captain  Brown.  He  came  yester 
day." 

'  Indeed! " 

'  Yes,  he  told  me  of  meeting  you  in  Kansas,  and  that 
you  had  left  there,  and  so  I  half  expected  you  would 
come  to  see  us." 

Brown  was  getting  hold  of  himself.  Here  were  trouble 
and  disappointment  to  start  with,  but  these  were  the 
things  he  thrived  upon.  This  United  States  officer,  in 
brass  buttons  and  dangling  sword,  gentleman  though  he 


390  Time  and  Chance 

was,  had  ordered  him  out  of  Kansas.     Now  he  was  to  be 
embarrassed  by  meeting  him  here. 

And  then  Margaret  wore  no  blue  dress.  She  was  not 
a  delicate,  beautiful  young  woman,  nor  even  a  sorrowful, 
middle-aged  widow,  but  a  woman  of  near  sixty  with 
snow-white  hair,  strong  and  hearty,  and  quite  self-suffi 
cient  as  a  matronly  widow  should  be. 

There  was  no  touch  of  sentiment  in  her  voice  or  hand 
shake;  only  good,  plain,  frank  friendship. 

She  called  up  the  stairway:  "  Richard,  Richard,  Cap 
tain  Brown  is  here!  " 

There  was  a  sound  of  pleasure  in  her  voice,  and  evi 
dently  Colonel  Brydges  had  given  Brown  a  standing,  for 
did  she  not  say  "  Captain  ?"  But  it  came  over  Brown 
that  tender  romance  does  not  live  so  long  in  a  woman's 
heart  as  in  a  man's,  and  he  smiled  just  the  faintest 
shadow  of  a  cynical  smile. 

"  Good-evening,  sir — where  is  he — where  is  Captain 
Brown,  Mother  ?  " 

Richard  had  come  into  the  room,  cast  his  eye  around, 
and  was  out  again  in  the  hall. 

Here  he  is,  here!  this  is  Captain  Brown;  why,  there 
must  be  some  mistake — you  said  that  you  knew  him." 

I  am  John  Brown.  Colonel  Brydges  does  not  know 
me  on  account  of  my  wearing  no  beard." 

Can  it  be  possible  ?  "  exclaimed  the  Colonel.  He 
turned  the  visitor  around  twice  and  gave  him  a  most 
cordial,  yea,  even  affectionate  greeting. 

Then  Ruth  Crosby  appeared — white-haired,  but  with 
the  vigor  that  comes  with  earnest  purpose  and  systematic 
employment.  The  Colonel's  greeting  had  thawed  Cap 
tain  Brown.  Tears  came  to  his  eyes  as  he  kissed  Ruth's 
cheek— sentiment,  after  all,  was  not  dead.  And  now  the 
ice  was  all  thawed — they  shook  hands  again  all  'round. 


The  Plans  are  being  Perfected  391 

Can't  we  have  supper  in  here,  Mother,  say  yes, 
please — just  we  four  ?  " 

And  so  the  mother  smiled  on  her  big  boy,  and  said: 
Why,  for  this  once,  of  course — we  don't  have  Captain 
Brown  with  us  often." 

A  white  spread  was  put  over  the  center  table,  and  a 

colored  girl  brought  in  the  tea  and  toast  and  the  poached 

eggs  and  the  hot  biscuit,  and  they  drew  up  their  chairs. 

I    resigned    my    commission,    Captain — resigned    to 

come  home  and  take  care  of  my  fanatical  mother!  " 

Rather  he  resigned  and  came  here  so  that  the  mother 
could  take  care  of  her  fanatical  son,"  laughingly  said 
Mrs.  Brydges. 

I  hardly  understand,"  said  Brown. 
Why,  you  converted  him." 
I — to  what  ?  " 
"  Abolitionism." 

'  But  we  did  not  argue  the  question." 
'  It  was  well  you  did  not,  or  it  would  have  only  set 
Richard  deeper  in  his  heresy — it  was  your  life  that  did  it !  " 
'  You  mystify  me." 

4  Why,  Richard  wrote  me  that  he  came  near  saying 
to  you,  '  Almost  thou  persuadest  me  to  be  a  Christian,' 
and  now  he  is  so  over-zealous  on  the  subject  of  Emanci 
pation  that  I  have  to  restrain  him." 

Don't  worry,  it  won't  hurt  him." 

"  We  could  not  convert  him— he  thought  us  only  silly 
women,  but  when  he  saw  you,  your  heroism  won  him," 
said  Ruth. 

Brown  did  not  hear  what  she  said.  He  glanced  at  her 
and  then  at  Margaret.  These  two  women  looked  much 
alike;  beautiful  faces  they  were;  they  shone  with  the 
beauty  that  comes  with  years  devoted  to  high  thinking, 
that  subtle,  feminine  beauty  that  only  is  revealed  where 


392  Time  and  Chance 

spiritual  aspiration  keeps  pace  with  intellect.  Ruth's 
contact  with  Margaret  had  worked  a  wondrous  change 
for  good  in  both.  Engaged  in  the  same  work,  thinking  the 
same  thoughts,  living  the  same  life,  they  had  grown  alike. 

Brown's  successful  work  in  Kansas  and  the  fact  that 
Richard  had  come  over  to  the  Lord's  side,  gave  these 
women  renewed  courage. 

For  the  time,  they  talked  with  the  lightness  of  youth, 
and  Richard  added  the  zest  of  witty  repartee  and  allusion 
to  the  sparkling  conversation. 

'  How  peculiar  it  was  to  have  Governor  Geary  beg  you 
to  leave,"  said  Margaret. 

'  Yes,  leave  the  country  for  the  country's  good." 

"  And  thus  allow  both  sides  to  think  they  had  won. 
You  won,  in  fact,  but  the  Pros  have  the  satisfaction  of 
saying  you  were  banished!  " 

"  It  must  have  been  glorious,  going  back  to  your  men 
— to  tell  them  that  the  Governor  had  consented  to  your 
requests!  " 

Brown  gave  no  reply — he  remembered  that  going  back. 

The  others  remembered,  too. 

"  John,"  said  Ruth,  "  what  became  of  that  man  who 
killed  Fred;  was  he  arrested  ?  " 

"  He  was  not  arrested,  but  he  is  dead,"  was  the  quiet 
reply. 

There  was  no  more  light  talk  now — the  conversation 
became  earnest. 

"  Mother,  let  's  remove  the  cloth  and  have  our  quad 
rangular  conference  at  once,  right  here." 

"  We  will,  there  's  much  to  discuss.  Captain  Brown 
has  a  definite  plan  of  action — let  us  consider  it." 

The  dishes  were  carried  out,  the  cloth  removed,  the 
door  was  locked,  and  John  Brown  laid  before  them  the 
plan. 


The  Plan  Explained  393 

CHAPTER   III 

THE    PLAN   EXPLAINED 

THE  plan  was  not  peculiar  nor  complex;  it  was  not 
even  original.     It  was  an  adaptation  to  America  of 
what  Schmeyl  had  done  in  Russia. 

The  proposal  was  to  select  some  rocky,  mountainous 
point  on  the  border  of  a  Slave  State  and  strike  a  hard, 
quick  blow  for  freedom,  just  as  Brown  had  done  in  Mis 
souri  when  he  had  run  off  twelve  slaves.  The  raid  would 
be  carefully  planned  and  carried  out  with  a  boldness  and 
swiftness  that  would  terrorize  the  slave  interests.  The 
policy  was  to  strike  and  retire.  All  great  battles,  even 
in  pugilism,  were  won  on  just  such  tactics,  and  in  the 
world's  war  history,  time  and  again,  small  numbers  have 
thus  defeated  great.  By  withdrawing  to  fastnesses,  where 
cavalry  and  artillery  could  not  follow,  a  few  determined 
men  could  hold  off  regiments. 

Slaves  would  be  given  their  freedom  and  white  pris 
oners  occasionally  taken  and  then  exchanged  for  blacks, 
man  for  man ;  for  the  black  men  would  make  excellent 
and  willing  soldiers.  Besides  this,  slaves  would  be  con 
stantly  coming  over  to  them,  when  it  was  known  that 
liberty  was  theirs  for  the  asking.  Supplies  were  to  come 
from  foraging,  and  thus  the  enemy  would  supply  the 
sinews  of  war  both  for  aggression  and  defense. 

Unlike  the  raid  of  Brown  into  Missouri,  this  first  bold 
stroke  must  be  severe  enough  to  startle  the  entire  land. 
To  attack  merely  a  few  plantations  and  run  off  the  slaves 
would  not  be  enough— it  would  be  of  too  local  a  charac 
ter.  The  disease  was  virulent — it  had  taken  hold  of  the 
very  nation  —  the  treatment  must  be  heroic.  To  that 
end  the  Federal  Government  must  be  attacked — the  de 
mand  for  freedom  to  all  must  be  made  upon  the  United 


394  Time  and  Chance 

States  of  America.  The  cry  must  be,  "  Give  us  liberty, 
or  give  us  death." 

The  Constitution  granted  equality,  the  Executive  re 
fused  it.  These  lovers  of  liberty,  loyal  to  their  country, 
arose  against  their  country  for  their  country's  good. 
They  loved  their  native  land  too  well  to  allow  it  to  do  a 
disgraceful  thing.  Like  Virginius,  they  would  even  strike 
to  her  death  a  beloved  daughter  rather  than  see  her  be 
come  the  prey  of  infamy.  Nothing  held  slavery  in  place 
but  heredity  and  tradition — the  cords  must  be  cut. 

When  the  first  blow  was  struck,  the  bold  band  would 
fall  back  to  a  place  of  safety.  Their  cry  would  be  taken 
up  by  the  entire  North,  but  the  General  Government  hav 
ing  been  attacked,  troops — both  militia  and  regulars — 
would  be  sent  in  pursuit.  These  troops  would  be  repelled 
— sharpshooters  from  concealed  and  unlooked-for  spots 
would  teach  them  caution.  Meantime,  another  blow 
would  be  struck  at  some  unexpected  point — struck  in 
the  night  without  warning,  quick  and  severe,  giving  the 
idea  of  numbers.  This  would  give  the  slaves  courage 
and  there  would  be  uprisings  all  through  the  South,  that 
would  furnish  each  community  all  it  could  do  to  look 
after  its  own  affairs.  No  able  fighting  men  could  be 
spared  from  any  one  point  in  the  South  to  go  in  defense 
of  another. 

After  three  or  four  sharp  raids,  and  as  many  uprisings 
— for  the  negroes  were  already  impatient  and  ripe  for  re 
volt — President  Buchanan  would  issue  a  call  for  volun 
teers  to  put  down  this  spontaneous  cry  for  liberty — which 
he  would  call  "  internecine  revolution."  This  call  would 
be  answered  by  several  thousand  young  men  of  the 
South  and  a  few  adventurers  of  the  North.  But  the 
sentiment  of  the  North  being  almost  entirely  Anti- 
Slavery,  the  inhabitants  would  not,  of  course,  think  of 


The  Plan  Explained  395 

leaving  their  homes  to  fight  for  an  institution  they 
despised. 

President  Buchanan's  proclamation  for  troops  would 
be  followed  by  another;  a  call  would  go  forth  from  John 
Brown.  To  this  the  Anti-Slavery  people  of  the  whole 
land  would  respond,  and  the  young  men  of  the  North 
and  West  would  flock  to  his  defense. 

Two-thirds  of  the  people  being  opposed  to  Slavery, 
Congress  would  convene  and  the  President  would  be 
compelled  to  issue  an  Emancipation  Proclamation.  He 
would  also  grant  amnesty  to  all  engaged  in  the  uprising, 
and  order  rll  bodies  of  armed  men  to  disperse. 

Then  laws  would  be  passed  for  the  better  protection  of 
the  colored  people,  and  Time,  the  great  healer,  would  do 
the  rest. 

It  might  take  one  year,  it  might  take  two  or  three. 
But  all  that  was  needed  was  a  leader — a  bold  leader, 
one  who  would  "  be  bold,  be  bold,  but  not  too  bold." 
Once  started  and  the  country  aroused,  the  conflagration 
could  no  more  be  stopped  than  a  prairie  fire  could  be 
ordered  back  by  Congress.  It  was  a  natural  law  at 
work;  the  revolt  of  the  human  heart  at  certain  deeds, 
which  must  occur  when  civilization  has  reached  a  certain 
stage. 

But  the  fuse  must  be  carefully  laid  ere  the  train  be 
lighted. 

The  undisciplined  blacks  and  whites  that  would  flock 
over  to  them  would  be  a  mob;  they  must  be  trained, 
whipped  into  shape  and  armed  before  they  could  do 
effective  service.  Competent  men  should  be  ready  for 
this  work  of  drilling,  and  arms  must  be  secured  ere  a 
single  shot  be  fired. 

It  would  take  time  to  secure  these  men  to  officer  the 
blacks,  it  would  require  effort  to  secure  money  to 


396  Time  and  Chance 

purchase  arms,  and  all  must  be  done  with  the  strictest 
secrecy  ;  this  was  imperative. 

"  And  where  would  you  begin  ?  "  asked  Ruth. 
'  There  are  many  Anti-Slavery  people  in  the  moun 
tains  below  Kentucky.  To  strike  the  Blue  Grass  country 
and  retreat  into  Tennessee  is  my  plan.  The  Louisiana 
Swamps  are  a  good  refuge,  but  I  feel  more  at  home  in 
the  mountains." 

'  The  point  to  strike  is  Harper's  Ferry,  Virginia — I  've 
been  there  within  a  month.     The  place  has  about  four 
thousand  people — it  is  in  a  valley  and  all  around  are  hills 
where  no  cavalry  can  go,"  exclaimed  Colonel  Brydges. 
'  I  've  thought  of  that,  too,"  said  Brown. 

"  And  I  believe  that  Mrs.  Brydges  suggested  it  to  you 
both,"  said  Ruth. 

"  Very  likely,  but  we  will  not  scramble  for  honors  now 
— wait  until  there  are  spoils  to  divide." 

"  Or  blame  to  fix." 

'  Possibly !  The  whole  thing  is  an  idea  yet — every 
great  reform  was  once  an  unspoken  word.  But  this  one 
is  assuming  shape— I  know  military  science  and  I  believe 
this  thing  is  wholly  feasible.  The  Bashi-Bazouks  have 
made  a  science  of  stampedes.  It  is  the  safest,  cleanest, 
strongest  plan  of  warfare  that  exists — a  return  to  first 
principles — and  when  backed  by  public  sympathy,  as  this 
will  be,  it  's  bound  to  win.  Captain  Brown,  you  shall 
be  General-in-chief  of  this  glorious  crusade.  Nature  and 
Experience  have  done  for  you  what  West  Point  and 
Scott's  Manual  have  failed  to  do  for  me.  I  will  be 
second  in  command  and  will  support  and  obey  you." 

It  's  not  the  glory  I  desire — I  simply  wish  to  do  my 
duty." 

'  You  have  the  power,  and  the  ability  is  the  call ! 
Captain  Brown,  do  you  not  feel  that  God  has  pushed  you 


The  Plan  Explained  397 

out   from   your   fellows  to  do  this  work  ? "   asked  Mrs. 
Brydges. 

Yes,  I  've  sometimes  thought  so." 

The  years  have  been  preparing  you  for  it.  That 
Kansas  warfare  has  made  your  name  known  to  all  the 
leading  Abolitionists  of  the  North.  Go  and  see  them 
personally  and  prepare  them  for  the  stroke  you  are  to 
make.  Secure  their  promise  to  back  you.  You  need  not 
tell  them  where  or  just  how  you  will  strike,  but  let  it  be 
thought  that  you  will  follow  example,  and  march  into 
Missouri  from  Kansas  and  drain  the  South  of  her  slaves 
in  that  direction  !  " 

And  as  for  men,"  said  Colonel  Brydges,  "  we  only 
want  a  few  to  start  with.  Too  many  would  be  a  disad 
vantage — they  would  attract  attention  to  the  plot." 

How  many,  think  you  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Brydges. 

Oh,  not  over  a  hundred,  and  these  must  be  scattered 
so  as  not  to  excite  suspicion." 

'  Well,  it  will  take  time  to  pick  these  men  who  will 
officer  our  raw  recruits.  I  '11  select  them  myself  and  you 
go  prepare  the  North  by  quietly  seeing  every  leading 
Abolitionist." 

'  I  will  do  it — but  your  work  is  already  partly  done — 
I  have  six  sons  ready  for  you  now,  and  in  Kansas  there 
are  at  least  five  men,  I  know,  who  have  been  tested 
under  fire,  who  will  join  us." 

"  Good,  we  want  no  one  who  has  not  faced  fire.  No 
man  knows  whether  he  has  courage  or  not  until  he  has 
smelled  powder." 

"  Then  we  want  a  topographical  map  of  every  county, 
through  the  Pennsylvania  line  at  Harper's  Ferry  to  North 
Carolina." 

"  Surely  we  do— that  's  where  the  fight  will  be." 
"  Well,  go  make  the  map." 


398  Time  and  Chance 

"  I  '11  do  it!" 

"  And  meantime  we  will  pray  and  hold  the  rope,  as 
the  women  did  when  St.  Paul  was  let  over  the  wall  in  a 
basket,"  said  Ruth. 

Your  prayers  will  mean  much — when  success  comes 
the  credit  must  go  to  Margaret  Brydges, "  exclaimed 
John  Brown. 

We  will  talk  of  that  later — it  's  past  midnight — 
honest  folks  should  be  abed." 

They  shook  hands  and  separated  for  the  night. 


CHAPTER    IV 

KINSMEN   ONLY   IN   NAME 

BROWN  left  Cincinnati  with  a  heart  filled  with  hope. 
There  was  power  and  purpose  in  his  step,  and 
steadfast  faith  in  the  glance  of  his  eye. 

Among  his  peers,  could  they  have  been  found,  his  per 
sonal  magnetism  would  have  swayed  opinions  as  did  the 
will  of  Cromwell,  or  Chatham,  or  Pope  Innocent.  But 
the  great  of  the  earth  are  few;  for  the  many,  the  horizon 
shuts  out  all  beyond  —  the  bread  and  butter  question  is 
supreme. 

At  Hudson,  Brown  found  his  father  hearty  and  vigor 
ous  as  old  men  go — nearly  eighty  years  of  age.  He  still 
had  his  watery  eye  on  the  main  chance.  He  felt  a  sin 
cere  pity  for  his  favorite  son  who  had  gone  off  after 
strange  gods.  Of  course,  old  "  Squire  Owen  "  believed 
in  emancipation,  but  that  his  boy  John  had  wrecked  his 
life  in  futile  attempts  to  make  men  free  was  a  source  of 
grief  to  him ;  he  fell  on  his  neck  and  wept. 

He  knew  somewhat  of  all  that  his  grandchildren  had 


Kinsmen  only  in  Name  399 

endured  in  Kansas,  he  guessed  at  the  hardships  yet  to  be 
borne:  "  Oh,  why  did  they  not  stay  here  and  be  con 
tent!  "  he  cried. 

Neighbors  came  in,  hearty  and  brusque;  they  had 
scarcely  heard  of  Kansas.  Some  confused  it  with  Kan 
sas  City  and  thought  it  near  Chicago.  They  read  but 
little  and  that  only  in  the  Gospel  Banner,  which  came 
weekly,  and  treated  mostly  of  matters  celestial,  omitting 
the  mundane  as  profane.  Then  these  worthy  neighbors 
had  crops  to  plant,  harvests  to  gather,  to  them  babies 
were  born,  and  occasionally  death  came — what  did  they 
know  of  bleeding  Kansas  ?  They  had  troubles  of  their 
own. 

John  Brown  had  a  brother  two  years  older  than  himself 
by  the  name  of  Jeremiah.  We  have  not  before  men 
tioned  Jeremiah,  simply  because  he  plays  no  part  in  this 
hislory.  He  was  an  honest  and  prosperous  farmer. 

"  Haint  you  mighty  glad  you  be  out  of  Kansas, 
John  ?  "  asked  Jeremiah. 

"  Yes,  but  I  'm  going  back." 

"  Coin'  back,  do  tell!  and  what  for  ?" 

"  To  free  the  slaves  in  Missouri." 

"  Jest  hear  him,  Father!  out  of  one  scrape  and  right 
into  another!  " 

"  Do  you  think  I  could  rest  with  the  small  success  I  've 
had  ?" 

"  Small  success  ?     I  did  n't  know  you  had  any!  " 

"  I  helped  make  Kansas  a  Free  State." 

"  Rubbish!  who  cares  when  it  's  so  far  away." 
'  From  where  ?  " 

"  Why — why,  from  Ohier." 

"  But  Ohio  is  not  the  world.  There  are  thirty-one 
States  in  this  Union — fifteen  of  them  are  Slave  States— 
I  will  not  rest  until  all  are  free!  " 


400  Time  and  Chance 

Father,  the  feller  is  crazy — he  never  was  just  right, 
you  know !  " 

"  So  you  think  I  'm  crazy  ?  " 

Not  think  so!  you  surely  be — you   've  got  bees  in 
your  bonnet." 

And  yet  old  Squire  Owen  did  catch  the  infection  just 
a  little.  He  believed  in  his  son,  as  fathers  will,  but  his 
belief  was  a  faith  mixed  with  pity,  and  this  is  not  good 
mortar.  A  prophet  hath  no  honor  in  his  own  country; 
Brown  did  not  expect  to  enthuse  Hudson — he  could  do 
no  great  work  there  on  account  of  the  unbelief  of  the 
people.  But  his  ardor  was  slightly  dampened  by  their 
dullness.  He  thought  of  a  quotation  he  had  read  in 
Plutarcli  or  somewhere :  "  In  the  presence  of  stupidity 
the  gods  are  dumb." 

Nearly  two  years  had  passed  since  he  had  seen  his 
family.  They  were  still  at  North  Elba — the  patient  wife 
and  eight  children.  A  baby  had  been  born  shortly  after 
he  left — a  girl  whom  they  had  named  Annie.  This  was 
his  twentieth  child,  but  he  thought  of  her  with  all  the 
tender  solicitude  that  the  bridegroom  of  a  year  does  of 
his  first.  From  the  dullness  and  deadness  of  his  old 
neighbors,  he  turned  with  anxious  longing  for  the  chubby 
baby  hands  and  the  sweet  baby  breath,  this  baby  of  the 
evening  of  his  days.  She  would  understand ;  yes,  this 
laughing,  dimpled  baby  Annie  would  know.  He  would 
reveal  to  her  his  plan ;  she  would  coo  a  blessing  and  kiss 
him  damp  baby  kisses  on  nose  and  cheeks,  and  applaud 
his  high  purpose  in  all  the  dainty  ways  that  are  universal 
to  these  little  souls  fresh  from  God. 

Then  he  would  go  forth  and  find  the  noble  thinking 
men  of  the  land  who  had  written  and  spoken  on  this 
great  theme,  so  dear  to  his  heart,  and  he  would  speak, 
too. 


Kinsmen  only  in  Name  401 

At  North  Elba  the  thrifty  wife  had  made  everything 
spick-span,  neat  and  clean  in  anticipation  of  the  coming 
of  the  great  man,  of  whom  all  felt  a  bit  in  awe.  They 
had  seen  so  little  of  him,  they  hardly  knew  him;  yet 
they  believed  in  him  through  and  through.  The  wife, 
Mary,  no  longer  chided  him  on  account  of  his  absence, 
for  she  felt  a  faith  in  the  power  of  the  man  ;  a  power  she 
could  neither  comprehend  nor  explain.  She  was  sure  he 
would  yet  do  a  great  work  that  would  bring  him  honor 
and  fame  and  wealth.  And  in  this  would  they  not  all 
share  ?  So  what  was  poverty  and  privation,  after  all,  in 
view  of  the  glory  yet  to  come! 

This  big  family  upon  the  rocky  hillside  at  North  Elba 
had  little  money — scarcely  any,  in  fact.  They  spun  wool 
and  flax,  and  made  their  own  clothing;  they  raised  peas, 
beans  and  potatoes;  each  fall  there  was  a  pig  to  kill,  or 
if  the  pig  had  to  be  sold  to  pay  taxes,  the  boys  secured 
game,  and  if  there  was  no  game  for  meat,  why,  they  did 
without.  So  they  were  hearty  and  happy  ;  for  happiness 
is  a  commodity  that  is  given  out  by  Mother  Nature  to 
rich  and  poor  alike,  in  equal  portion. 

The  coming  of  their  father  was  a  great  event  to  the 
juvenile  Browns.  They  were  all  anxiety  for  days  and 
days,  and  walked  out  miles  and  miles  on  the  winding  road 
to  meet  him.  And  when  at  last  they  saw  him,  sitting 
there  in  the  wagon  that  had  gone  across  to  Elizabethtown 
to  meet  him,  they  hid  in  the  bushes  and  fain  would  let 
him  pass.  But  he  spied  them  and  sprang  out  over  the 
front  wheel  to  greet  them,  and  they  were  all  taken  in 
and  went  jogging  back,  all  talking  at  once,  to  the  old  log 
house,  where  Mrs.  Brown  was  waiting  in  her  new  calico 
dress  and  big  check  apron  to  receive  her  lord. 

There  were  presents  brought  for  everyone— foolish 
little  presents — but  very  dear  and  much  prized  they  were. 


4-O2  Time  and  Chance 

Then  there  were  useful  things — sugar,  tea,  dried  fish, 
rice,  bacon,  and  yards  of  white  cloth  and  a  ribbon  or  two 
for  the  big  girls — which  the  mother  thought  were  not 
very  useful,  for  they  tended  to  vanity,  but  the  girls  were 
willing  to  risk  it. 

Very  happy  was  this  home  coming!  What  is  better 
after  all  than  to  go  home  ?  '  We  must  go  home,  we 
must  go  home.  For  we  have  been  away  so  long  it  seems 
forever  and  a  day.  We  must  go  home;  the  laughter  of 
the  world  is  like  a  moan  upon  our  tired  hearing ;  we  must 
go  home!  " 

But  John  Brown  could  not  stay  long;  he  must  be 
about  his  Father's  business.  He  could  tell  his  wife  but 
little  of  his  plans.  Good  woman  that  she  was,  all  of  her 
days  had  been  taken  up  with  taking  care  of  babies,  pre 
paring  meals,  making  clothes,  caring  for  sick  folks,  and 
encouraging  discouraged  well  ones.  To  arise  at  five  in 
the  morning  and -toil  steadily  until  night;  to  cook,  to 
sew,  to  plan,  and  piece  and  patch,  and  arrange  to  make 
one  dollar  do  the  work  of  two,  is  the  fate  of  ten  thousand 
women,  their  whole  lives  through.  In  such  lives  the  ab 
sence  of  so-called  culture  and  bookish  knowledge  need 
not  be  mentioned — God  knows. 

Mrs.  Brown  hardly  knew  whether  Illinois  was  this  side 
of  Kansas  or  the  other,  and  as  for  Harper's  Ferry — la 
me !  she  thought  it  was  in  Missouri,  so  she  did  !  But  she 
was  willing  to  do  her  work,  look  after  the  children,  run 
the  farm,  and  spare  the  big  boys  and  their  father  to  do  the 
Lord's  errand,  of  course  she  was! 

So  old  John  Brown,  Osawatomie  Brown,  kissed  her 
very  tenderly,  and  as  he  did  so  the  sternness  of  his 
strong  face  vanished,  and  the  piercing  eyes  grew  soft  and 
gentle  as  a  youthful  lover's,  and  filled  with  tears.  And 
he  went  away  again  in  the  wagon  that  had  brought  him, 


Transcendentalism  and  "  Beecher  Bibles"     403 

out  down  the  winding  valley,  the  children  tagging  behind 
and  dropping  off  one  by  one,  waving  hats  and  hands  until 
he  was  lost  to  view  in  the  never-ending  gray-green  of  the 
forest. 

CHAPTER    V 

TRANSCENDENTALISM   AND   "  BEECHER   BIBLES  " 

IN  nearly  all  the  larger  towns  and  cities  of  the  North 
were  Abolition  Societies.  These  clubs  or  societies 
were  not  very  popular;  sometimes  they  were  frowned 
upon  by  the  church  organizations,  which  considered  them 
rather  meddlesome  and  foolish  institutions,  whose  only 
good  was  that  they  allowed  over-zealous  people  to  work 
off  their  superfluous  emotions  in  a  harmless  way. 

But  occasionally  these  societies  had  as  members  the 
best  men  in  the  place.  Brown  went  from  town  to  town 
and  city  to  city,  making  acquaintance  with  the  men 
who  composed  these  clubs.  He  was  received  everywhere 
with  courtesy  and  sometimes  with  genuine  fervor. 

In  Boston  he  found  many  strong  men  who  were  earnest 
Abolitionists.  He  met  Theodore  Parker,  Edward  Everett 
Hale,  Thomas  W.  Higginson,  Wendell  Phillips,  F.  B. 
Sanborn,  E.  B.  Stearns,  William  Lloyd  Garrison,  and 
many  others  equally  sincere  and  outspoken. 

A  day  was  set  for  him  to  appear  before  the  "  General 
Court  "  and  make  an  appeal  for  an  appropriation  for  the 
benefit  of  New  England  people  whose  homes  had  been 
despoiled  in  Kansas.  He  gave  his  one  simple  little  ad 
dress;  it  was  received  with  profound  attention.  He  was 
questioned  and  catechized  at  length,  and  although  he  did 
not  secure  the  official  appropriation  which  he  asked  for, 
yet  his  speech  made  so  favorable  an  impression  that  it 
won  him  both  dollars  and  friends. 


404  Time  and  Chance 

Many  of  the  villages  about  Boston  were  visited.  At 
Concord  he  spoke  in  the  Town  Hall,  and  in  the  audi 
ence  were  Emerson,  Thoreau,  Bronson  Alcott,  and 
Louisa  M.  Alcott.  So  greatly  was  Mr.  Emerson  im 
pressed  that  he  went  home  and  wrote  in  his  diary:  "  I 
deem  Brown  of  Kansas  quite  the  manliest  man  I  ever 
saw,"  and  that  very  night  he  began  the  Essay  on  JoJin 
Brown.  Mr.  Alcott  was  visibly  affected,  and,  having  no 
handkerchief  of  his  own,  was  supplied  by  Louisa,  who 
shared  hers  with  him.  Says  Mr.  Alcott  in  his  Journal : 

He  spoke  of  the  distress  his  children  had  endured  in 
Kansas  and  of  the  death  of  his  son,  all  with  no  outward 
show  of  feeling,  but  with  a  pent-up  reserve  force  and 
meaning  that  was  ominous  in  its  import." 

Yet  in  spite  of  these  encouraging  receptions  from  men 
of  influence,  Brown  saw  that  commercial  Boston  had  its 
ears  stopped  with  South  Carolina  cotton  so  it  could  not 
hear  the  groans  of  the  bondsmen.  He  was  shrewd  and 
wise  enough  to  note  that  the  men  who  took  him  by  the 
hand  were  exceptional. 

And  even  among  the  Abolitionists  there  were  factions. 
William  Lloyd  Garrison  was  an  avowed  non-combatant, 
and  Wendell  Phillips  pinned  his  faith  to  moral  suasion. 
Brown  spent  several  days  at  the  home  of  "  Wendell  and 
Ann,"  and  plainly  told  them  that  while  "  moral  suasion  " 
might  answer  in  Boston,  he  would  as  soon  load  a  can 
non  with  hot  mush  to  fight  an  Armada  as  rely  on  such  a 
soft  weapon  as  moral  suasion  in  Missouri.  In  fact,  he 
begged  Mr.  Phillips  to  go  with  him  and  spend  three 
months  in  Kansas,  so  that  he  might  properly  diagnose  the 
case,  but  Mr.  Phillips  preferred  the  rostrum  to  breast 
works.  Yet  be  it  known  that  the  last  time  Brown  met 
Wendell  Phillips,  Phillips  gave  the  old  man  a  hundred 
dollars  and  said,  "  Give  it  to  them,  John  Brown — give  it 


Transcendentalism  and  "  Beecher  Bibles  "    405 

to  them  with  a  Sharpc's  rifle  !  You  fight  in  your  way  and 
I  will  in  mine,  and  together,  by  the  help  of  God,  we 
shall  succeed !  " 

Brown  had  hoped  for  a  general  recognition,  coming  as 
he  did  in  the  name  of  Freedom ;  instead  of  that  it  was 
only  here  and  there  that  a  strong  man  came  out,  and 
often  then  looked  furtively  about  and  expressed  himself 
in  whispers.  Many  Abolitionists  were  just  a  little  afraid 
of  being  laughed  at,  if  not  something  worse.  They 
would  hold  parlor  meetings,  calling  in  the  elect,  and 
Brown  would  relate  his  simple  tale  of  Kansas  hardship; 
he  would  tell,  without  boasting,  what  he  had  already  done, 
and  he  would  tell  also  what  he  proposed  to  do,  if  but  the 
people  would  sustain  him.  Such  was  the  power  of  his 
unpretentious  eloquence  that  wherever  he  spoke,  tears 
would  fill  the  eyes  of  those  who  listened  to  his  recital  of 
the  wrongs  inflicted  on  Free-State  people  in  Kansas.  But 
when  subscriptions  were  called  for,  the  responses  would 
come  in  form  of  one-dollar  bills  with  an  occasional  five, 
and,  at  long  intervals,  ten.  There  was  no  burning  zeal  in 
the  matter;  in  fact,  those  who  gave  usually  extracted  a 
promise  that  their  names  should  not  be  mentioned. 

In  several  instances,  people  were  met  who  were  so 
strong  and  earnest  in  their  faith,  that  Brown  partially  con 
fided  his  plans  to  them,  and  asked  for  their  individual 
co-operation.  Then  it  was  that  they  halted  and  with 
one  consent  began  to  make  excuse.  One  had  bought  a 
piece  of  ground  and  must  go  see  it;  another  had  bought 
five  yoke  of  oxen  and  must  go  prove  them;  another  had 
married  a  wife. 

The  last  named  was  the  most  common  excuse— the 
wife  would  not  allow.  All  young  men  who  had  no  wives 
seemed  suddenly  to  have  gotten  themselves  engaged. 
And  the  universal  way  that  men  had  of  throwing  the 


406  Time  and  Chance 

burden  of  excuse  on  their  wives  and  sweethearts  struck 
Brown  as  peculiar,  until  it  came  to  him  that  man  has 
ever  laid  the  blame  of  his  sins,  both  of  commission  and 
omission,  on  woman. 

He  also  thought  of  how  Fred  had  a  sweetheart  in  the 
East,  and  of  how  she  did  not  hold  him  back  from  what 
he  considered  his  duty.  And  the  next  man  who  dodged 
behind  a  woman,  got  the  flat  statement  from  old  John 
Brown  that  he  was  a  coward,  who,  not  being  willing 
to  fight  for  Freedom's  cause,  made  his  wife  bear  the 
brunt. 

Of  course,  the  accused  man  was  indignant ;  he  even 
cancelled  his  subscription,  and  said  that  in  future  Abo 
litionism  could  go  to  the  devil  for  all  of  him. 

But  Brown  was  not  discouraged.  To  be  sure,  he  had 
slightly  overrated  the  enthusiasm  of  the  North ;  he  had 
forgotten  that  they  were  a  commercial  people,  and  that 
slavery  was  a  good  way  off  to  most  of  them ;  yet  he 
pressed  onward  and  felt  somehow  that  he  was  making 
headway. 

"  Never  mind,  it  only  means  a  little  more  time,"  he 
said. 

A  year  passed  and  instead  of  striking  the  great  blow 
with  the  sword  of  the  Lord  of  Gideon,  they  met  to  talk 
it  over.  Colonel  Brydges,  being  a  bachelor,  considered 
Cincinnati  home,  and  Brown  agreed  with  him  that  his 
mother's  counsel  was  valuable  and  safe. 

So  again,  the  two  women  and  the  two  men  met  behind 
the  locked  doors  of  Mrs.  Brydges's  sitting-room  and  dis 
cussed  ways  and  means.  Brydges  had  a  better  report  to 
make  than  Brown.  He  had  traveled  on  horseback  and 
afoot  from  Altoona,  Pennsylvania,  down  through  Cham- 
bersburg  to  Harper's  Ferry,  and  then  on  through  Vir 
ginia  to  Salisbury  North  Carolina. 


Transcendentalism  and  "  Beecher  Bibles"     407 

He  had  looked  the  ground  over  carefully  and  prepared 
a  topographical  map  of  the  country  about  Harper's  Ferry, 
and  gave  it  as  his  opinion  that  Nature  had  arranged 
things  thereabouts  purposely  for  their  benefit.  "  There 
are  flat  shelving  rocks  all  through  the  mountains  there, 
where  one  man  can  hold  off  a  regiment.  The  Pass  at 
Thermopylae  is  not  a  patch  to  a  shelving  rock  that  is 
protected  by  another,  one  size  larger,  above  it!  " 

But,  in  getting  men,  he  had  met  with  little  encourage 
ment.  Army  officers  sided  with  slavery  or  else  were 
apathetic.  Some  were  restless  and  ready  for  adventure 
that  offered  victory,  but  having  no  deep  feeling  in  the 
real  issue  itself,  Brydges  could  not  confide  in  them.  So, 
often,  those  who  would  be  willing  to  go  he  did  not  want. 
It  was  absolutely  necessary  that  he  should  move  with 
great  caution  and  not  give  his  plans  away  to  an  unworthy 
person ;  then  Brown  had  insisted  on  only  temperate  men 
being  taken,  and  this  was  a  hard  condition. 

As  for  Brown  himself,  he  had  collected  nearly  fo.ur 
thousand  dollars  in  money,  and  had  aroused  ardor  to  an 
unknown  degree — small  or  large  he  could  not  say.  In 
stead  of  kindling  enthusiasm,  sometimes  he  had  created 
opposition.  But  the  women  were  sure  he  had  done  much 
good,  and  as  for  funds  he  had  done  remarkably  well. 
But  he  did  not  think  so.  Ten  thousand  dollars  at  least 
should  be  had;  for  arms  and  provisions  must  be  bought, 
and  stored  at  various  points  in  the  mountains  of  Penn 
sylvania  and  Virginia,  so  there  would  be  no  delay  or  slip 
in  carrying  on  the  war  when  once  begun. 

However,  in  one  sense  the  war  was  already  on,  for  in 
Kansas  the  fire  had  broken  out  afresh,  on  account  of  con 
tinual  raids  from  Missourians,  who  it  seems  were  unable 
to  give  up  Knnsas  with  a  goodly  grace. 

So  it  was  decided  that  Brown  should  go  to  Kansas  at 


408  Time  and  Chance 

once,  for  the  double  purpose  of  "  keeping  things  warm," 
and  of  securing  men  for  the  Virginia  raid. 

His  presence  in  Kansas  was  a  synonym  for  war.  He 
appeared  without  disguise,  a  rifle  on  his  shoulder  and 
belt  full  of  pistols.  The  Free-State  settlers  hailed  him 
as  deliverer,  and  tendered  him  welcomes  that  might  have 
turned  the  head  of  a  younger  man.  The  Southrons 
looked  at  him  askance,  but  offered  no  incivility — it  was 
not  safe. 

He  recruited  a  following  of  fifty  young  men,  and  threw 
up  earthworks  about  a  log  fort  a  few  miles  back  from  the 
Missouri  line,  near  Paoli.  Spies  were  sent  out  to  gather 
the  names  of  all  slave  owners  in  counties  along  the 
border,  and  then  Brown  went  over  and  released  the 
blacks.  In  short,  the  border  counties  of  Missouri  were 
drained  of  their  slaves. 

Various  Missourians,  who  had  been  active  in  despoiling 
the  crops  of  Free-State  men,  were  visited  and  warned. 
There  were  several  sharp  fights  and  a  few  men  killed  on 
both  sides,  but  peace  was  secured  even  though  it  had  to 
be  fought  for. 

But  Kansas  was  secondary  in  Old  Man  Brown's 
thoughts,  and  little  did  his  fighting  band  of  hardy  men 
know  that  he  was  leading  them  out,  not  so  much  to  fight 
the  Southrons,  as  to  study  their  qualities  and  learn  who 
were  bomb  proof  and  who  not. 

Brown  had  a  theory  that  no  man  knew  what  he  could 
do  until  he  tried.  Men  timid  in  a  parlor  often  make  the 
best  sort  of  timber  for  guerillas.  He  was  culling  the 
basswood  from  the  hickory. 

A  year  passed.  Peace  had  come  to  Kansas — tempo 
rary  peace — and  Brown  had  secured  twenty  men  who  were 
staunch  as  tempered  steel.  These  men  knew  no  such 
thing  as  fear;  they  had  intelligence,  they  had  faith  in 


Transcendentalism  and  "  Beecher  Bibles"     409 

their  leader,  they  were  devoted  to  the  cause.  But  they 
did  not  know  military  science,  and,  as  they  were  to  act  as 
officers,  they  must  be  drilled  and  tutored. 

These  men  were  taken  to  Tabor,  Iowa,  and  Brydges 
sent  on  a  competent  officer  to  give  this  score  of  men  a 
proper  training  for  the  duties  yet  to  come.  And  let  it 
here  be  known,  this  town  of  Tabor  was  made  up  of  a 
colony  from  Oberlin,  Ohio ;  and  further  that  Tabor, 
Iowa,  should  be  remembered  in  history  as  giving  more 
men  and  treasure  in  behalf  of  Freedom,  in  proportion  to 
population,  than  any  other  town  in  the  United  States. 

When  summer  came  and  flowers  bloomed,  the  Browns 
had  slipped  out  of  Kansas,  one  and  all.  Their  presence 
was  not  missed.  Fred,  in  his  grave,  was  quiet,  and  the 
two  little  graves  near,  of  Jason's  children,  attracted  no 
attention,  for  privation,  exposure,  and  strife  made  graves 
common  there  on  the  prairies,  and  the  busy  settlers  had 
only  time  to  think  of  life. 

John  and  Jason  had  moved  back  to  Summit  County, 
Ohio,  with  their  families  and  had  rented  farms.  The  in 
tention  was  that  they  should  stay  there  until  the  Great 
Blow  had  been  struck,  when  they  would  take  advantage 
of  the  enthusiasm,  enlist  a  body  of  determined  men  and 
march  to  their  father's  defense,  recruiting  as  they  went. 

Salmon  had  taken  himself  a  wife  and  was  now  at  North 
Elba,  New  York,  also  awaiting  the  bugle  blast,  when  he, 
too,  would  march  southward  with  men  at  his  back. 

These  tides  flowing  to  the  South  from  various  direc 
tions  were  counted  on  as  a  strong  scheme  for  furthering 
the  cause.  An  armed  force  gathers  power  like  a  tem 
pest,  and  the  hosts  that  would  march  from  Canada,  Ohio, 
New  York,  and  Boston  would  arouse  the  sleeping  land  as 
nothing  else  could.  The  echo  of  the  steady  tramp  of 
armed  men — the  glitter  of  bayonets,  the  shrill  shriek  of 


410  Time  and  Chance 

fife,  the  roll  of  drums — ah,  it  means  much!  Arouse,  ye 
hosts  of  Freedom — the  time  is  ripe! 

The  forty  thousand  negroes  were  preparing.  Hun 
dreds,  aye,  thousands,  of  stern,  uncompromising  Abo 
litionists  were  ready.  They  knew  not  from  what  point 
the  call  would  come — they  knew  not  where  the  blow 
would  be  struck  —  but  they  were  all  ready,  waiting, 
expectant! 

Brown  had  ordered  arms — rifles,  pikes,  swords,  and  re 
volvers—at  Hartford,  Collinsville,  and  Springfield.  These 
were  being  shipped  in  plain  boxes,  marked  "implements" 
or  "  hardware,"  to  various  small  stations  in  Pennsylvania 
and  Virginia.  Brydges  with  a  faithful  twelve  met  the 
"  goods  "  and  carted  them  back  into  the  mountains, 
where  they  were  carried  on  mule-back  and  man-back  to 
caves  and  caches.  They  were  rolled  in  oil-cloth  and 
hidden  away  with  provisions  to  be  called  for  when 
wanted.  The  twenty  picked  men  at  Tabor  were  written 
to  come  on  in  squads  of  four.  Brydges  had  twice  as  many 
more  ready  to  respond  at  a  moment's  warning.  Brown 
was  hurrying  forward  the  arms  and  munitions.  Money 
had  come  to  him,  and  a  promise  of  more. 

He  hastened  to  North  Elba  to  see  that  the  wife  and 
babies  were  provided  for.  He  remained  but  a  day,  and 
then  with  his  sons,  Oliver,  Watson,  Owen,  and  his  two 
sons-in-law,  Henry  and  William  Thompson,  he  started 
for  Harper's  Ferry. 

CHAPTER    VI 

THE  TIME  is  SHORT! 

IT  was  midsummer.     The  blow  must  be  struck  before 
the    harvest  was    gathered— for    then    laborers  were 
most   needed,    and   could    ill    be  spared.      The  negroes 


The  Time  is  Short !  411 

would  leave  the  crops  to  rot  in  the  fields  and  flock  to  the 
deliverers  for  freedom.  This  would  cripple  and  tend  to 
humble  the  proud  plutocratic  dealer  in  human  flesh, 
right  at  the  start. 

With  Oliver  and  Watson,  Brown  entered  Harper's 
Ferry  and  stopped  at  a  modest  tavern.  They  were  un 
armed  and  dressed  as  plain  farmers  from  "  York  State." 
They  wished  to  purchase  several  hundred  acres  of  land 
where  they  could  make  a  home  and  pasture  their  flocks. 

Various  men,  who  owned  large  tracts  of  land  there 
abouts,  came  to  them  and  offered  to  deprive  themselves 
of  slices  of  the  rocky  hillside  for  a  consideration. 

Some  of  these  men  were  slave-holders.  They  were 
very  courteous  and  hospitable.  They  loaned  their 
horses  and  carriages  to  "  Mr.  Smith"  and  his  sons,  so 
that  they  might  go  and  see  how  the  land  lay.  The 
Smiths  spent  a  week  in  looking  about,  and,  finally,  instead 
of  buying  they  decided  to  rent,  for  a  year  at  least,  to  see 
how  they  liked  it. 

Five  miles  south  of  the  village  of  Harper's  Ferry,  they 
found  a  farm  that  suited  them  fairly  well.  They  dickered 
over  the  rent,  but  finally  came  to  an  arrangement  with 
Dr.  Kennedy,  the  owner,  and  paid  him  three  months' 
rent  in  advance. 

The  neighbors  watched  them  closely,  for  country  neigh 
bors  are  always  inquisitive ;  they  thought  that  there  was 
not  much  furniture  brought  for  so  big  a  house.  They 
also  noted  the  absence  of  women  and  children.  And, 
furthermore,  the  sheep  raisers  had  no  sheep;  leastwise 
they  had  not  heard  any  bleat,  and  as  for  cows,  there  was 
not  a  horn  to  be  seen.  They  had  one  old  horse  and  a 
wagon,  but  no  plows  nor  harrows,  nor  rollers.  Some  of 
the  neighbors  said  that  Old  Man  Smith— the  one  with 
the  long  white  beard — had  two  sons,  and  some  said  a 


412  Time  and  Chance 

dozen — for  on  a  certain  moonlight  night  full  twelve  men 
were  seen  to  come  out  of  the  house  and  go  off  toward 
the  mountains. 

And  the  upshot  of  it  was  that  Smith  had  found  gold  in 
the  hills — they  always  knew  it  was  there — he  had  sent 
off  for  experts  and  they  were  now  prospecting.  More 
men  came,  and  every  morning  they  went  off  to  the  hills 
with  picks  and  shovels. 

They  were  a  civil  lot  of  men — those  fellows  that  lived 
at  the  Kennedy  farm  —  but  unsociable, — "they  never 
neighbored  with  nobody,"  said  an  old  farmer  to  his 
wife.  Among  them  were  several  negroes,  and  they  were 
just  as  unsociable  as  the  rest. 

Ten  miles  back  from  Harper's  Ferry,  well  over  into 
Pennsylvania,  Colonel  Brydges  had  his  camp  of  forty- 
seven  picked  men.  All  had  been  officers  in  the  regular 
army;  several  were  veterans  of  the  Mexican  War.  All 
had  been  under  fire,  all  were  duelists  in  the  best  sense, 
and  ready  to  give  fight  single  handed ;  for  be  it  known 
that  there  are  men  who  will  fight  well  in  battle  line,  who 
cannot  be  tempted  to  pick  their  man  and  engage  him  to 
the  death  with  a  dirk.  These  men  were  fighters  every 
one,  and  yet  with  intelligence  and  force  enough  to  break 
a  mob  of  raw  recruits  into  files  of  eight,  and  make  them 
do  systematic  work. 

Brydges  and  his  men  knew  this  country  well.  Grand, 
wild,  terrible,  yet  friendly  it  was.  Ages  and  ages  ago, 
nature  had  tossed  up  great  masses  of  earth-stuff  and 
allowed  it  to  drop  as  it  would ;  massive  ledges  of  rock 
jutted  out  in  fantastic  shapes,  and  disordered,  distorted 
strata  projected  themselves  this  way  and  that.  The 
valleys  were  narrow,  the  steeps  abrupt,  and  the  whole 
effect  was  that  of  a  stone-strewn  maze  made  to  baffle  and 
confuse.  Over  all  grew  a  dense  forest  of  hemlock,  inter- 


The  Time  is  Short !  413 

spersed  here  and  there  with  pine,  oak,  chestnut,  and 
maple.  And  these  leafy  curtains  concealed  the  entrance 
to  many  a  friendly  cave  that  could  only  be  entered  like 
the  sacred  temples  of  Nyanza,  on  hands  and  knees. 

Here  Colonel  Brydges  and  his  force  were  to  remain 
until  Brown  and  his  twenty  Kansas  rangers  struck  the 
first  blow.  Brown  was  to  march  into  Harper's  Ferry  at 
two  o'clock  at  night  and  quietly  capture  the  Arsenal, 
which  was  guarded  by  only  a  few  men.  He  was  then  to 
take  possession  of  the  railroad  depot,  cut  the  wires  and 
destroy  the  railroad  bridge.  He  was  also  to  capture  at 
least  forty  white  citizens  as  they  appeared  on  the  streets 
at  daylight.  Of  course,  the  town  would  be  panic  stricken, 
at  first,  but  by  seven  o'clock,  at  least,  some  of  the  citi 
zens  would  recover  their  wits  and  get  out  their  guns 
ready  to  fight. 

At  this  time,  Colonel  Brydges  with  his  picked  men 
would  appear  on  the  scene,  marching  in  from  two  sides, 
having  left  their  camp  just  three  hours  before.  The  dis 
tance  had  been  walked  by  Brydges,  so  was  properly 
timed.  This  fresh  force  would  at  once  throw  the  place 
into  a  new  panic,  when  all  the  prisoners  that  could  be 
easily  handled  would  be  seized,  and  both  the  Brown  and 
Brydges  forces  would  drop  back  into  the  hills. 

The  quick  move  of  two  assaults,  one  right  after  the 
other,  would  terrorize  and  give  the  idea  of  numbers ;  and 
as  Brydges  would  retreat  northward  into  Pennsylvania 
and  Brown  southward  into  Virginia,  it  would  require  a 
double  force  to  follow  them. 

The  white  prisoners  would  be  exchanged  man  for  man 
for  able-bodied  blacks,  who  would  be  at  once  armed  with 
pikes,  and  with  rifles  as  soon  as  they  were  taught  how  to 
handle  them.  All  was  ready. 

But  the  summer  was  slipping  past;  fall  had  come  and 


414  Time  and  Chance 

the  big  lot  of  ammunition  that  had  been  bought  and  paid 
for  had  not  arrived.  The  factory  in  Hartford  had  had 
a  fire — it  took  time  to  rebuild. 

Brydges  was  getting  nervous,  Brown  serious. 

What  was  to  be  done  ?  Brown  must  go  on  to  the  East 
and  secure  more  ammunition  at  once. 

He  promised  not  to  be  gone  more  than  a  week. 


CHAPTER   VII 

AN   OLD    FRIEND    WORKS   A   SPELL 

ONE  of  the  principal  citizens  of  Harper's  Ferry  was 
Colonel  Washington.  His  residence  was  two  miles 
out  of  the  village,  on  the  road  leading  to  the  Kennedy 
farm. 

Back  of  Colonel  Washington's  mansion,  on  the  road 
way  that  ran  north  and  south,  was  a  row  of  a  half-dozen 
whitewashed  cottages — built  right  on  the  street.  Behind 
these  houses  was  a  stretch  of  well-tended  garden,  where 
tall  bean  poles,  covered  with  vines  that  grew  lush  and 
lusty,  lifted  themselves  clear  above  the  flowering  tobacco 
and  gaudy  sunflowers. 

These  houses  were  occupied  by  colored  people.  Such 
cabins,  made  out  of  rough  boards,  plain  battened  and 
whitewashed,  are  a  universal  feature  of  architecture 
throughout  the  South ;  and  very  dull  is  that  person  who 
cannot  distinguish,  from  the  outside,  the  habitation  of  a 
negro  from  that  of  a  white  man. 

On  his  trips  back  and  forth  from  town  after  mail  or  on 
errands,  Jim  Slivers,  body  servant  and  own  familiar  friend 
of  John  Brown,  had  noted  that  the  second  house  from 
the  end  on  this  row  of  cabins  had  a  sign  above  the  door. 
Above  this  sign  was  a  horseshoe.  But  colored  people 


An  Old  Friend  Works  a  Spell  415 

are  given  to  hanging  out  signs,  and  they  are  also  hope 
lessly  given  over  to  horseshoes  and  other  talismanic 
schemes  for  keeping  witches  away,  and  bringing  good 
luck. 

Now  there  were  two  things  that  Jim  Slivers  prided 
himself  upon ;  one  that  he  was  not  a  negro  and  the  other 
that  he  was  not  superstitious.  Yet  he  was  a  negro  and 
also  superstitious.  For  when  a  man  begins  to  pride  him 
self  on  the  absence  of  a  thing,  he  usually  has  it, — else, 
forsooth!  he  would  be  unconscious  of  it. 

Each  time  that  Jim  passed  by  that  row  of  cabins,  he 
looked  at  that  horseshoe  and  read  the  sign.  And  once 
he  had  gone  down  by  night  just  to  see  how  the  horseshoe 
would  look  in  the  pale  light  of  the  moon. 

The  sign  was  a  queer  one,  and  queerer  than  all  else  (for 
it  was  a  "  darky  "  sign),  it  was  correctly  spelled  and 
properly  punctuated: 


i 

JEDEDIAH,  the  PROPHET: 

DOCTOR 

and 
FORTUNE  TELLER. 


Besides  the  pride  that  Jim  took  in  his  absence  of  super 
stition,  was  a  modest  pride  in  his  education.  This  man 
who  united  the  high  office  of  "  Doctor  "  and  "  Fortune 
Teller  "  was  evidently  a  learned  individual,  for  could  he 
not  spell  "  prophet"  ?  and  prophet  was  a  hard  word. 
Indeed,  few  white  folks  could  spell  it  right.  Jim  would 
have  bet  on  that. 

One  day  Jim  got  a  glimpse  of  the  Prophet,  at  least  he 


416  Time  and  Chance 

thought  it  must  be  the  Prophet.  The  great  man  was 
out  back  of  his  cabin,  sitting  astride  of  a  bench  with  a 
draw-shave  in  hand,  making  axe  helves.  Jim  was  disap 
pointed  in  his  looks,  for  this  man  was  small  and  round- 
shouldered,  and  nearly  white,  whereas  a  sure-enough 
prophet  should  be  large  and  very  black,  or  else  all 
white  with  a  beard  that  reached  his  waist. 

On  going  closer  to  the  pickets  and  peeking  through, 
Jim  saw  that  the  Prophet  was  old ;  and  that  surely  was 
in  his  favor.  But,  as  he  turned  his  wrinkled  face,  Jim 
was  startled  to  see  that,  like  himself,  the  man  wore  a 
close-cropped  beard,  grizzly,  red  and  white,  and  his  face 
was  freckled.  Jim  trembled  a  little  and  pinched  himself 
to  see  if  he  were  awake ;  he  felt  someway  that  he  was 
looking  at  a  picture  of  himself  as  he  would  appear  when 
he  got  old.  As  yet,  of  course  he  was  only  a  youth,  a 
wild,  giddy,  reckless  youth,  sowing  a  small  crop  of  wild 
oats. 

Their  eyes  met : 

"  Come  in,  sah,  come  in,  it  's  a  fine  day,  sah,"  called 
the  old  man  in  the  pleasant  accent  of  the  Southern  negro. 

Jim  opened  the  gate  and  walked  in. 

' '  Take  a  seat,  sah !  Sunflowah,  a  cheer  for  the  gemmen ! 
Doan  you  stand  thar  starin'  as  if  we  was  n't  used  to  white 
folks !  ' ' 

An  old  mulatto  woman  brought  out  a  splint-bottomed 
chair,  and  dusting  it  with  her  apron  placed  it  in  the 
shade  against  the  cabin. 

'  We  've  saw  you  go  by,  sah,  sev'ral  times,  an'  ha!  ha! 
ha!  ha!  we  laughed  to  see  how  much  you  looks  like  my 
ole  man  tharust  to  look  fore  he  got  the  rumatize,  ha! 
ha!  ha!  " 

"  Go  'bout  yo'  work,  woman,"  ordered  the  Prophet  in 
a  voice  of  wrath. 


An  Old  Friend  Works  a  Spell  417 

The  Prophet's  wrath  was  feigned,  but  Jim  was  mad  in 
earnest. 

I  'm  no  nigger!  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  be,  sah !  but  you  no  better  dan  white 
folks  on  dat  'count.  I  'm  no  niggah  either,  I  'm  white. 
I  am !  "  chuckled  the  old  man. 

So  you  are  white  an'  I  'm  a  nigger,  is  that  it  ? " 
'  Yes,  dat  's  a  fack!  "  and  the  old  man  laughed  again. 
I  'd  thrash  you,  old  fool,  if  you  was  younger!  " 
Go  'way  chile — go  'way — how  ol'  you  think  I  am  ?  " 
The  easy  way  the  old  man   was  taking  things  side 
tracked    Jim's    wrath    by    piquing   his   curiosity.       He 
dropped  into  the  chair,  leaned   back,   and  thinking  to 
humor  the  old  man  answered: 
"  Oh,  eighty!  " 

"  Go  way — I  'm  not  seventy-five,  and  you,  re  near 
sixty." 

Jim  felt  that  he  was  in  the  presence  of  a  man  just  a 
little  smarter  than  himself.  The  guess  at  his  age  was  so 
near  the  truth  that  it  stung,  especially  in  view  of  the  fact 
that  Jim  had  insisted  for  years  that  he  was  forty-two  and 
no  more. 

Oho,  so  you  're  a  prophet,  are  you  ?  " 
"  Yes,  I  'm  a  prophet.     You  folks  down  dar  be  on  no 
good  errand !  " 

'  Who  do  you  mean,  you  old  rascal  ?  " 
'  You,  at  dat  Kennedy  farm !  " 
"  Why  ?" 

"  First  comes  John  Smith  an'  his  sons,  then  more  sons, 
an'  then  more.      Now  fully  twenty  sons!  " 
"  We  're .hunting  for  gold  in  the  mountains." 

Is  you  though! 

"  Yes,  you  're  a  prophet,  will  we  find  it  ?" 
'  Less  see  your  han',  man." 


4i 8  Time  and  Chance 

Jim  reached  his  hand  forward  and  the  Prophet  studied 
it  carefully,  mumbling  to  himself. 

No,  you  won't  find  no  gold — you  might  if  I  'd  con 
sult  de  Spirits  for  you  an'  show  where  it  am.  Bring  yo' 
Massa'  down,  an'  for  five  dollars — good  money — I  '11 
work  de  spell!  " 

4  Who  shall  I  bring,  did  you  say  ?  " 

"  De  man  what  owns  you." 

'  Fool,  no  man  owns  me,  but  I  '11  bring  Mr.  Smith  to 
see  you." 

"  All  right — an*  so  you  is  free,  is  you  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  An'  dem  other  niggers  at  your  house — is  dey  free  ?  " 

"  Of  course,  Mr.  Smith  does  not  believe  in  slav'ry — 
it  's  wrong." 

Lordy,  I  wish  you  'd  convince  my  Massa'  ob  dat 
fick,  I  do!  " 

'  Well,  pos'bly  we  will." 

Jim  could  fight  on  a  square  deal,  where  his  enemy 
stood  out  in  open  ;  in  short,  he  was  not  afraid  of  any 
thing  that  could  be  seen,  but  the  Unknown  made  him 
tremble.  This  old  Prophet  was  a  Voudou,  and  Jim  felt 
a  little  in  awe  of  him ;  he  had  a  wholesome  respect  for 
the  Powers  of  the  Air  with  which  this  Prophet  was  in 
league.  These  Powers  had  brought  people  good  luck 
and  they  had  brought  them  bad  luck.  He  knew  this — 
he  had  known  of  men  to  fall  down  in  a  fit  through  charms 
worked  over  them  by  a  Voudou. 

If  an  enemy  was  after  you,  the  Voudou  could  confound 
him;  was  your  wife  estranged,  the  Voudou  could  bring 
her  back;  was  luck  against  you,  the  Voudou  could  re 
verse  the  spell  and  bring  fortune  your  way. 
.  But  John  Brown  had  no  faith  in  Voudouism.  He 
scoffed  it;  he  prayed  only  to  one  God  and  had  no  faith 


An  Old  Friend  Works  a  Spell  419 

in  the  special  influence  of  any  one  man  or  woman all 

men  were  equal  before  the  Almighty.  And  as  to  all  this, 
Jim  was  sure  that  John  Brown  was  wrong;  but  alas! 
Brown  could  not  be  reasoned  with. 

And  more  's  the  pity,  for,  by  the  help  of  the  Powers, 
that  ammunition  would  have  gotten  through  on  time. 
Now  there  was  a  rasping  delay — the  men  were  getting 
restless.  And  worse,  the  slave-holders  might  have  their 
suspicions  aroused  and  prepare  for  defense. 

Jim  took  a  big  chew  of  tobacco  and  went  trudging  off 
home,  with  the  inward  avowal  that  he  would  have  noth 
ing  to  do  with  the  miserable  Voudou  Doctor.  The  man 
might  be  a  rascal  and  work  a  spell  that  would  bring  ruin 
on  them  all;  such  men  were  dangerous. 

But,  after  walking  a  couple  of  miles  farther,  it  came  over 
him  that  a  man  who  was  himself  a  slave  would  surely  be 
very  glad  to  have  all  the  slaves  free.  Now  if  this  Proph 
et  had  power  to  do  certain  wonderful  things,  would  he 
not  be  glad  to  use  this  power  in  helping  bring  about  his 
own  freedom  ? 

It  must  be  so,  and  Jim  wished  that  someone  would 
have  kicked  him  for  being  so  stupid  as  not  to  have  seen 
this  point  before. 

This  Voudou  Prophet  could  work  a  Spell  that  would 
bring  good  luck  to  their  project.  Every  force  possible 
must  be  brought  to  bear  to  bring  about  the  desired 
result :  had  Brown  not  said  it  again  and  again  ? 

Jim  ground  his  teeth  in  impatient  rage  to  think  that 
Brown  was  not  here  so  he  could  ask  his  permission  to 
make  a  confidant  of  the  Prophet  and  thus  secure  his 
help.  Brown  had  been  gone  three  days.  In  a  week  he 
would  be  back. 

But  a  week  passed  and  he  had  not  returned. 

Jim  called  on  the  Prophet  and  studied  him  quietly  and 


420  Time  and  Chance 

carefully,  giving  nothing  away  in  words  or  manner.  The 
Voudou  seemed  like  a  man  of  ability. 

Could  he  work  a  Spell  that  would  bring  success  to  a 
plan  ?  Yes,  he  surely  could,  but  he  must  know  what  the 
desired  plan  was. 

Jim  hesitated — he  demanded  a  test  before  divulging  a 
single  detail. 

The  Prophet  suddenly  swung  his  hands  up,  clapped 
them  together;  his  form  stiffened,  his  eyes  closed,  he 
fell  back  in  his  chair  as  if  dying.  Suddenly  he  began  to 
struggle,  his  words  came  as  if  from  the  grave. 

"  I  see — I  see  the  inside  of  that  Kennedy  house — it  is 
rilled  with  armed  men — they  have  guns,  and  knives  fas 
tened  on  poles  like  spears — their  leader's  name  is  not 
Smith — I  must  have  his  true  name  before  I  can  go 
on— 

"  Brown,"  answered  Jim;  he  would  tell  this  much  and 
no  more. 

The  Prophet's  eyes  opened  with  a  jerk,  his  senses  were 
coming  back — but  suddenly  his  head  began  to  shake  and 
he  passed  out  again  under  the  "  Influence." 

"  Brown— his  name  is  Brown,  born  in  Connecticut, 
moved  to  Ohio,  then  to  Kansas,  where  he  fought  for 
Abolitionism  and  had  to  run  away — and — and — " 

The  man's  head  began  to  jerk,  he  sat  up,  his  eyes 
opened,  and  he  declared  that  he  did  not  know  a  single 
word  of  what  he  had  said. 

"  Has  the  'fluence  give  you  anything,  sah  ?  "  he  asked 
innocently. 

Jim  had  noticed  that  while  under  the  "  Influence  "  the 
jjian  talked  with  the  force  and  accent  of  an  educated  man 
of  the  North,  and  when  he  was  "  himself,"  he  was  simply 
an  ignorant  mulatto. 

The  test  was  astounding.     Jim  was  convinced. 


An  Old  Friend  Works  a  Spell  421 

He  moved  his  chair  up  close  to  the  Prophet,  and  in 
a  hurried  whisper  told  him  all,  and  begged  for  his 
co-operation.  The  Prophet  gave  a  low  whistle  of 
wonderment. 

'  You  gwine  to  'tack  de  Arsenal — to  capture  de  armory 
at  de  Ferry  ?  " 
"  Yes." 

An'  when  ?  " 
"  As  soon  as  Brown  gits  back  an'  the  'munition  comes. " 

Judas  Priest ! !  " 
'  Yes,  will  you  work  a  Spell  to  give  us  luck  ?  " 

In  course  I  will,  is  n't  I  a  slave  ? — Come  to  me  the 
night  befo'  you  begins,  an'  I  '11  work  the  charm!  " 
"  An'  why  not  now  ?  " 

Can't!  must  do  it  just  before  you  start." 
You  are  sure  you  can  give  us  luck  ?  " 
In  course  I  can." 

'  Well,  work  a  Spell  so  Brown  will  get  the  'munition 
and  get  back  quick  !  " 
"  I  'lido  it!  " 
"  When  ?  " 

To-night  at  midnight." 

Jim  handed  him  a  dollar — all  the  money  he  had,  and 
shook  his  hand  in  gratitude.  The  Prophet  gave  him  a 
piece  of  snake-skin  in  which  were  wrapped  three  black 
beans.  This  snake-skin  was  tied  at  each  end  with  the 
dried  intestines  of  a  bat.  The  charm  was  to  be  worn  by 
Jim  over  the  heart — pinned  to  his  shirt.  Just  before  the 
blow  was  struck,  the  charm  was  to  be  brought  back,  when 
the  Prophet  would  bless  it  and  this  would  make  victory 
certain. 

The  next  evening  John  Brown  came.  Three  days  later 
the  ammunition  arrived. 

There  was  virtue  in  the  charm. 


422  Time  and  Chance 

CHAPTER   VIII 

THE   PLANS   HASTENED 

ALL  was  now  ready.  Only  one  thing  deterred;  that 
was  that  the  negroes  in  Canada,  to  the  number  of  a 
thousand  or  more,  had  not  received  the  supplies  that 
Brown  had  shipped  them.  They  did  not  want  the  blow 
to  be  struck  until  they  were  ready  to  march.  The  very 
day,  aye !  the  very  hour  that  the  wires  brought  the  words, 
they  would  cross  into  the  United  States  and  move  south 
ward  like  an  avalanche,  gaining  in  force  as  they  swept 
forward ;  but  they  must  have  provisions.  By  October 
27th  they  would  be  in  perfect  condition  to  move. 

Brown  wrote  them  that  the  blow  would  be  struck  on 
the  night  of  the  26th  inst. 

It  was  now  Sunday  evening — the  night  of  the  26th  was 
still  ten  days  away.  It  was  ten  o'clock  and  the  men  were 
all  asleep  on  their  straw  beds  in  the  upper  rooms.  The 
lights  were  out. 

Old  John  Brown  sat  alone  in  the  darkness,  musing — 
he  seldom  went  to  bed  until  midnight — his  system 
seemed  to  require  but  little  sleep. 

He  arose,  put  on  his  hat,  took  a  stout  stick  that  stood 
in  the  corner,  and  moved  softly  out  into  the  night.  He 
wished  to  go  alone  into  the  woods  and  pray,  as  was  his 
wont. 

The  rising  October  wind  ran  hissing  through  the  sway 
ing  pine  tops;  it  rose  and  fell,  and  died  away,  and  then 
came  back  with  renewed  force  and  fury. 

Dark  clouds,  with  great  outstretched  wings  like  gigantic 
bats,  chased  each  other  across  the  sky.  Only  now  and 
again  for  an  instant  could  the  moon  be  seen. 

The  wind  increased,  the  clouds  thickened  and  a  few 
dashing  rain  drops  fell.  Brown  had  walked  a  quarter  of 


The  Plans  Hastened  423 

a  mile  down  the  road  and  now  withdrew  under  the  pro 
tecting  boughs  of  a  great  low  pine  that  stood  by  the 
roadside. 

Muffled  voices  in  low  conversation  could  be  heard  com 
ing  up  the  road.  Sheet-lightning  shone  out  and  revealed 
three  men;  one  short  and  stooped;  this  one  shuffled  and 
limped  in  his  walk  as  if  old  and  infirm. 

"  Dar  's  no  haste — dey  is  n't  gwine  to  begin  de  fracas 
till  a  week  yet,  anyway!  " 

"  But  are  you  sure  ?  " 

Dead  sartain !  Dar  's  only  twenty  men,  all  packed 
away  like  rats  in  a  hole — jest  bring  up  de  Charlestown  mili 
tia  and  bag  de  whole  bizness  some  night,  dat  's  de  way." 

The  three  men  passed  on.  Brown  followed,  but  he 
was  too  far  behind  to  catch  their  words,  although  as  the 
lightning  gleamed  he  saw  that  they  were  gesticulating 
and  conversing  earnestly.  They  ceased  talking  and  cau 
tiously  approached  the  house.  They  moved  slowly  up 
to  the  windows  and  tried  to  peer  in. 

"  Ah,  good-evening,  gentlemen!  "  came  the  firm,  clear 
voice  of  old  John  Brown  suddenly  behind  them. 

The  three  men  turned  with  a  jump.  They  would  have 
run,  but  Brown  said,  "  I  'm  glad  to  see  you— neighbors, 
I  s'pose  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir,  we  was  just  goin'  by  and  thought  we  'd 
make  you  a  friendly  visit." 

"  I  '11  call  my  son  to  bring  a  light — " 

"  Oh,  don't  trouble,  we  '11  come  over  to-morrow— 

"  No,  but  I  wish  to  talk  with  you  now." 

Brown  opened  the  door  and  called,  "  Oliver,  we  have 
callers,  bring  a  light!  "  He  then  moved  around  so  as  to 
stand  between  the  visitors  and  the  road. 

It  was  only  a  moment  before  Oliver  came  down  the 
stairs,  half  dressed,  carrying  a  lighted  candle. 


424  Time  and  Chance 

Walk  in,  gentlemen,  walk  in!  " 
Oh,  we  'd  rather  not  to-night — some  other  time!  " 
Walk  in,   I  say,  I  've  something   important  to    tell 
you." 

The  two  men  stepped  inside  the  door. 
"  And  that  other  man — the  little  man,  where  is  he  ?" 
Why,  there  were  only  two  of  us! 
Watson,  take  four  of  the  boys  and  bring  in  that  third 
visitor  who  is  skulking  outside — be  quick  or  he  '11  get 
away ! 

'  You  're  not  going  to  kill  us,  neighbor,  are  you  ?" 
whined  one  of  the  men. 

"  No,  you  shall  not  be  harmed  in  the  least.  You  are 
my  prisoners,  though!  " 

The  men  from  up-stairs  were  all  astir.     They  tumbled 
down  the  stairway,  guns  in  hand,  putting  on  clothing  and 
buckling  on  belts  as  they  came. 
Brown  turned  to  his  men : 

Boys!  the  hour  has  arrived  !  To-night  we  strike  the 
blow — two  prisoners  are  already  ours!  " 

An  involuntary  cheer  broke  from  the  lips  of  the  men 
who  had  been  penned  up  for  so  many  monotonous, 
weary  days.  Joy!  the  hour  had  come!  Fight — fight, 
and  victory  was  theirs! 

Brown  with  a  wave  of  his  hand  commanded  silence. 

Jim  Slivers,  handcuff  these  two  gentlemen  together! 
I  'm  sorry,  but  we  will  have  to  do  it  for  safety.  To 
morrow  you  shall  be  exchanged  for  negroes,  and  go 
free." 

'  Is  they  'quainted  ?  "  said  Jim  with  a  grin  and  a  leer, 
as  he  came  forward  and  snapped  a  steel  cuff  around  the 
wrist  of  each  trembling  man. 

'  Jim  Slivers,  I  think  you  have  had  more  experience 
in  night  work  than  any  man  here — 


The  Plans  Hastened  425 

I  've  cat's  eyes  an'  can  see  in  the  dark." 
Can  you  go  to  Camp  Brydges  in  two  hours  ?  " 
Yes,  or  less!  " 

'  You  have  walked  it  by  night  ?  " 
Four  times — when  the  sky  was  blacker  than  black!  " 
Jim  Slivers,  it  is  now  half  past  ten.     If  you  reach 
Camp  Brydges  in  three  hours,  it  will  do.     Go  to  Colonel 
Brydges,  and  tell  him  that  we  are  discovered  and  must 
strike  the  blow    to-night.       My  force  will  march  in  an 
hour — his  must  move  not  later  than  four  to  reinforce  us, 
all  exactly  as  arranged! 

"  All  as  'greed,  'cept  he  must  move  to-night — is  that 
it  ?" 

'  You  understand  it — this  night  we  strike  the  blow!  " 
"  Good-bye,  boys,  I  '11  meet  you  all  at  the  Arsenal  for 
breckfuss — good-bye — I  'm  off!  " 

A  half-smothered  cheer  followed  Jim  as  he  disappeared 
through  the  door  and  the  darkness  swallowed  him. 

'  We  can't  find  that  man,  Father — are  you  sure  there 
was  another  ?  "  said  Watson,  entering  the  room. 

"  Yes,  there  were  three.     Prisoner,  who  was  that  other 
man  with  you  ?  " 
"  A  nigger,  sir!  " 
'  You  mean  a  colored  man!  " 

Yes,  sir." 

"  I  thought  so — and  was  he  a  slave  ?  " 
'  Yes,  sir." 

"  And  how  comes  it  he  knew  of  our  plans  to  free  the 
slaves  ?  " 

"  One  of  your  men  told  him." 

"  What!  but  never  mind,  it  's  too  late  now.     And  how 
came  it  that  this  slave  should  confide  in  you? -Speak  up!" 
"  We  forced  him — we  saw  your  man  talking  to  him, 
then  we  went  to  him  and  made  him  tell  us!  " 


426  Time  and  Chance 

Now  you  see  my  men  about  you  here — which  one  of 
these  men  revealed  our  secret  ?  " 

None  of  these  here — it  was  the  one  you  just  sent 
away! " 

"  And  he  gave  our  plans  to  a  slave  ?  " 
"  Yes." 

And  who  else  knows  these  plans  save  you  two  ? " 
No  one  but  the  nigger  who  told  us!  " 
4  Well — well — you  seem  to  speak  the  truth;  and  if  no 
one  but  a  slave  knows  it,  we  are  all  right  yet.    The  slave 
will  side  with  us,  that  's  sure,  when  not  intimidated  by 
such  as  you.     Never  mind  hunting  for  him,  Watson,  he 
got  panic-stricken  and  crawled  off  in  the  grass.     Boys, 
get  ready  for  the  fight! " 


CHAPTER    IX 

THE   BLOW   IS   STRUCK 

TWO  men  were  ordered  to  go  with  a  lantern  and  hitch 
the  horse  to  the  wagon.     The  single,  solitary  old 
steed  was  led  blinking  and  winking  out  into  the  darkness. 
Was  ever  before  mortal  horse  bound  on  such  momentous 
errand ! 

Haversacks,  axes,  a  sledge,  and  a  crowbar  were  piled 
into  the  wagon.  The  men  had  buckled  on  their  cartridge 
belts,  each  containing  forty  rounds  of  ammunition.  Each 
man  carried  a  Sharpe's  rifle,  two  pistols  and  a  knife. 

We  are  ready  to  start!  "  said  John  Brown.  '  You 
will  all  kneel,  while  I  ask  the  blessing  of  God  on  our 
undertaking.  And  will  the  two  gentlemen  who  are 
providentially  with  us  also  kneel  ?  " 

All  knelt,  and  John  Brown  offered  a  prayer  of  thanks 
giving  for  the  guidance  that  had  thus  far  been  given 


The  Blow  is  Struck  427 

them ;  he  asked  that  the  Spirit  of  Almighty  God  would 
still  be  with  them. 

A  man  was  detailed  to  remain  and  guard  the  house  and 
the  two  prisoners.  At  seven  o'clock,  this  guard  was  to 
make  for  the  hills  to  meet  the  main  force  at  a  point 
indicated. 

Then  John  Brown  climbed  up  into  the  wagon  and  drove 
slowly  off  down  through  the  darkness  toward  the  sleep 
ing  village. 

The  men  dropped  in  behind,  following  silently,  two  by 
two.  Not  a  word  was  spoken. 

If  they  should  meet  persons  on  the  way,  it  was  the 
intent  to  capture  them  and  send  them  back  to  the 
house,  holding  them  prisoners.  But  the  road  was  de 
serted — not  a  team  nor  man  was  to  be  seen. 

Arriving  at  the  village,  two  men  were  instructed  to  go 
ahead  and  pass  down  the  two  principal  streets  and  ex 
tinguish  the  street  lamps.  Two  others  were  sent  to 
destroy  the  telegraph  line. 

As  they  approached,  the  river  watchman  that  patroled 
the  bridge  appeared.  At  the  muzzle  of  a  rifle,  he  was 
arrested.  Three  men  were  left  to  guard  the  bridge. 

The  rest  of  the  company,  with  the  prisoner,  went  with 
Brown  at  their  head  straight  to  the  Arsenal.  Around 
this  long,  brick  building  was  a  high  iron  fence.  The 
gate  was  tried;  it  was  locked.  A  sharp  wrench  with  the 
crowbar  and  the  lock  was  broken.  They  passed  in  and 
quietly  seized*  the  two  watchmen,  who  were  asleep. 

By  this  time  the  two  men,  who  had  extinguished  the 
street  lamps,  arrived  with  three  policemen  —  the  entire 
police  force  of  the  place — as  prisoners. 

Soon  the  men  who  had  gone  to  cut  the  telegraph  wires 
appeared  with  the  station  agent  as  a  prisoner. 

Ten  of  the  men  were  now  sent  out  by  twos  to  bring 


428  Time  and  Chance 

in  certain   prominent   citizens,  whose  houses  had   been 
previously  located. 

By  four  o'clock  they  had  returned,  marching  in  front 
of  them,  in  all,  fourteen  prisoners.  There  was  no  dis 
order — no  confusion — not  a  shot  had  been  fired  on  either 
side. 

A  passenger  train  had  come  in  on  the  Maryland  side 
at  two  o'clock.  The  switch  had  been  turned  and  spiked. 
The  men  at  the  bridge  ordered  the  passengers  and  train 
men  to  remain  inside  the  cars  on  pain  of  death.  Think 
ing  that  a  large  armed  force  had  captured  the  town,  they 
were  willing  enough  to  obey  orders  and  lie  quiet  until 
daylight. 

Day  dawned,  and  Old  Man  Brown  went  across  the 
bridge  and  had  an  interview  with  the  conductor. 

"  I  am  here  to  free  the  slaves.  The  Abolitionists  of 
the  land  have  at  last  arisen,  and  in  the  name  of  God  we 
declare  all  men  free!  "  said  Brown. 

"  And — and  may  we  go  on  with  this  train  ?  "  asked  the 
conductor. 

'  Yes,  go !  and  carry  the  news  to  the  City  of  Wash 
ington  and  to  the  world,  that  the  blow  which  will  make 
all  slaves  in  America  free  has  been  struck.  Go!  " 

The  switch  was  quickly  repaired.  Brown  walked  across 
the  bridge  with  the  conductor  to  assure  him  that  all  was 
safe. 

The  train  started,  it  moved  faster,  then  faster,  it  was 
going  with  lightning  speed  for  Washington,  fifty-seven 
miles  away. 

Brown  watched  it  disappear  up  the  valley  and  grimly 
smiled. 

Men  began  to  appear  on  the  streets  —  they  were  at 
once  captured  and  marched  inside  the  iron  gates. 

It  was  six  o'clock  and  the  town  was  terror-stricken. 


The  Blow  is  Struck  429 

People  dared  not  look  out  of  their  houses;  dreadful 
rumors  were  about ;  the  North  had  marched  upon  them 
a  force  consisting  of  thousands  of  armed  men.  What 
would  be  the  awful  result  ?  Who  could  say! 

Soon  there  was  firing  in  the  streets.  Some  of  the 
citizens  had  gotten  out  shotguns  and  rifles  and  were 
shooting  at  the  Arsenal  from  long  range. 

Their  shots  were  answered.  Other  shots  were  heard. 
It  was  Colonel  Brydges  with  his  first  detachment. 

Get  ready  for  the  retreat!  March  all  prisoners 
ahead!  Should  any  try  to  escape,  shoot!!"  shouted 
John  Brown. 

To  the  huddled,  trembling  prisoners  he  made  a  speech, 
assuring  them  that  none  should  be  harmed,  provided  they 
did  not  resist  or  try  to  escape;  they  would  all  be  ex 
changed  within  a  few  days  for  black  men ;  there  would 
be  no  insult  nor  ill  treatment. 

Off  to  the  northeast  could  be  seen  a  cloud  of  dust. 
Brown  climbed  to  an  upper  window  and  scrutinized  it 
carefully ;  it  was  the  second  detachment  of  Colonel 
Brydges 's  force.  In  an  hour  they  would  be  safely  in  the 
hills — leaving  Virginia  to  recover  from  her  fright  as  best 
she  could,  only  to  be  terrified  again. 

The  firing  in  the  streets  increased.  Bullets  began  to 
break  the  windows. 

It  was  seven  by  the  town  clock,  and  Brydges  had  not 
come. 

Brown  climbed  again  to  the  window  and  looked  out  for 
the  cloud  of  dust.  It  was  still  there— but  he  was  mis 
taken — it  was  not  dust,  it  was  only  fog  rising  from  the 
river. 

A  bullet  struck  and  splintered  the  sash  a  foot  from  his 
face.  He  looked  out  across  the  street  and  saw  a  man 
firing  from  the  windows  of  a  warehouse.  Suddenly,  the 


430  Time  and  Chance 

man  who  had  shot  at  him  stiffened,  lunged  and  plunged 
through  the  window  headlong  to  the  stone  sidewalk, 
pierced  through  the  heart.  One  of  Brown's  men  had 
located  him. 

They  were  all  ready  to  march.  Would  Brydges  never 
come  ? 

The  crowd  in  the  street  increased.  Men  armed  with 
every  conceivable  weapon  were  coming  in  from  the 
country.  They  made  a  circle  clear  around  the  Arsenal, 
cutting  off  the  two  men  who  guarded  the  bridge.  These 
two  brave  men  had  been  pressed  upon  until  their  ammu 
nition  was  gone — every  moment  they  expected  the  force 
in  the  Arsenal  would  come  marching  out,  or  that  Colonel 
Brydges  would  appear. 

The  force  inside  the  iron  gates  did  not  come  forth,  and 
Colonel  Brydges  did  not  appear. 

What  was  to  be  done ! 

Owen  struck  off  alone,  on  the  Maryland  side,  to  meet 
Colonel  Brydges.  Watson  and  his  comrade  made  a  bold 
rush  to  reach  the  Arsenal.  Watson  fell,  mortally 
wounded;  his  companion,  William  Thompson,  was  cap 
tured,  clutched  and  dragged  by  ravenous  hands  that 
sought  to  tear  him  limb  from  limb. 

This  gave  the  crowd  courage  and  they  surged  closer. 
The  firing  increased. 

Oh !  if  only  Brydges  with  his  brave  band  should  appear, 
how  that  mob  would  melt  away.  They  would  scatter 
like  grasshoppers. 

Brown  could  have  charged  the  crowd  and  gotten  away. 
But  Watson  was  dead — he  saw  him  fall — and  Thompson 
a  prisoner!  To  retreat  now  meant  leaving  the  prisoners 
behind.  It  would  be  too  cumbersome  to  try  to  move 
them.  Indeed,  it  would  be  an  impossible  feat 

And  to  leave  the  prisoners  behind  meant  failure — or  at 


The  Blow  is  Struck  431 

least  partial  failure.     But  Brydges  would  come  soon 

then  the  work  could  be  made  complete,  all  as  planned — 
save  for  poor  Watson — alas !  who  would  break  the  news 
to  his  wife  ? 

But  Brydges  did  not  appear. 

The  flies  came  in  swarms  and  covered  the  face  of  Wat 
son  where  he  lay  all  stark  and  bleeding  out  on  the  stony 
street. 

The  better  to  protect  his  men,  Brown  withdrew  into  the 
engine  house,  taking  his  prisoners  with  him.  The  doors 
were  barricaded. 

If  a  truce  could  be  obtained  for  just  an  hour,  the  re 
inforcements  would  arrive!  Brown  sent  Henry  Thomp 
son,  his  son-in-law,  out  with  a  white  flag.  Befoie 
Thompson  had  advanced  ten  feet  he  fell,  pierced  with  a 
dozen  bullets. 

All  that  forenoon  the  crowd  was  kept  at  bay.  The 
Militia  Company  from  Charlestown — a  hundred  strong — 
dressed  in  shining  uniform  and  well  equipped,  arrived. 
But  they  could  do  nothing — to  charge  meant  death,  to 
some  at  least. 

A  bullet  struck  Oliver  as  he  stood  at  a  port  hole.  He 
began  to  vomit  blood  and  tried  to  speak — to  give  a  mes 
sage  that  should  be  sent  to  his  young  wife.  He  sank  to 
the  ground,  and  his  old  father,  with  rifle  in  one  hand,  felt 
the  dying  boy's  pulse  with  the  other. 

Then  he  turned,  took  deliberate  aim  out  through  the 
port  hole,  fired  and  turning  again  closed  the  young  man's 
eyes,  for  the  boy  was  dead. 

That  evening  a  detachment  of  United  States  Marines 
arrived  from  Washington  in  charge  of  Col.  Robert  E. 
Lee.  Lee  demanded  an  unconditional  surrender. 

It  was  refused. 

All  that  night  the  little  force  held  out  firm.     Perhaps 


43 2  Time  and  Chance 

Brydges  had  waited  for  night  before  coming  to  their 
rescue.  Only  six  men  were  left,  and  two  of  these  badly 
wounded. 

At  daylight,  the  Marines  charged  the  place — battered 
in  the  doors  and  rushed  in,  sword  in  hand. 

Old  Man  Brown  fell,  slashed  and  thrust  through  with 
swords  and  bayonets — his  face  a  mass  of  blood  —  un 
recognizable. 

The  plan  had  failed ! 


CHAPTER    X 

"  i  AM  READY!  " 

BUT  the  old  man  still  breathed.  The  mob  gathered 
about  and  sought  to  finish  him,  but  a  strong  voice 
from  someone  in  the  crowd  went  up,  "  Leave  him  alone, 
boys,  don't  you  see  he  is  dying,  anyway  ?  "  And  the 
same  unknown  man  placed  an  old  coat  under  the  gray 
head  for  a  pillow,  seeking  to  stop  the  gaping  wounds, 
and  standing  by,  he  protected  the  helpless  form  from 
those  who  would  have  trampled  upon  it. 

"  And  what  brought  you  here  ? "  bawled  a  bystander, 
when  it  was  seen  that  he  was  not  dead. 

"  Duty,  sir,"  came  the  answer. 

"  And  do  you  think  it  was  your  duty  to  invade  this 
place  with  an  armed  force,  and  make  war  on  your 
country  ?  " 

'  They  tell  me  I  am  dying,  sir,  I  cannot  argue  with 
you ;  I  tried  to  free  the  slaves,  and  am  sorry  I  did  not 
succeed.  I  did  my  duty  as  I  saw  it." 

Life  still  lingered  in  that  iron  frame,  and  in  a  blanket 
the  old  man  was  carried  to  prison. 

Governor  Wise  arrived  the  next  day,  and  when   the 


"  I  am  Ready!"  433 

aristocratic  Virginian  met  Old  Brown  of  Osawatomic,  he 
recognized  at  once  that  he  was  in  the  presence  of  one 
greater  than  himself.  Governor  Wise,  who  it  seems  had 
the  elements  of  nobility  in  his  make-up  to  a  rare  degree, 
has  given  us  an  account  of  that  interview: 

"  He  is  no  madman,  but  the  best  bundle  of  nerves  I  ever 
saw;  cut,  bruised  and  battered,  and  chained  beside,  he  showed 
himself  to  be  a  man  of  courage  and  fortitude.  He  is  a  fanatic, 
of  course,  beyond  all  reason,  but  he  thinks  himself  a  Christian, 
and  believes  honestly  he  is  called  of  God  to  free  the  negroes. 
They  say  when  one  son  was  dead  by  his  side,  he  held  his  rifle 
in  one  hand,  and  felt  the  pulse  of  another  who  was  dying,  all 
the  time  cautioning  his  men  to  be  cool  and  sell  their  lives 
dearly. 

"  While  I  was  talking  with  him,"  continued  Governor  Wise, 
"  someone  called  out  that  he  was  a  robber  and  a  murderer. 
Brown  replied,  'You  slave-holders  are  the  robbers.'  I  said 
to  him,  '  Captain  Brown,  your  hair  is  matted  with  blood,  and 
you  are  speaking  hard  words.  Perhaps  you  forget  I  am  a 
slave-holder;  you  had  better  be  thinking  on  eternity.  Your 
wounds  may  be  fatal,  and  if  they  are  not,  you  will  have  to 
stand  trial  for  treason,  conspiracy  and  murder,  and  how  can 
you  hope  to  escape,  when  you  admit  your  guilt  ?  ' 

"  The  old  man  leaned  on  his  elbow,  and  beneath  the  band 
ages  on  his  broken  face  I  saw  the  blue  eyes  flash,  and  he 
answered  me:  '  Governor  Wise,  you  call  me  old,  but  after  all 
I  have  only  ten  or  fifteen  years,  at  most,  the  start  of  you  in  that 
journey  to  eternity,  of  which  you  speak.  I  will  leave  this 
world  first,  but  you  must  follow.  I  will  meet  you  across 
Death's  border,  and  I  tell  you,  Governor  Wise,  prepare  for 
eternity.  You  admit  you  are  a  slave-holder.  You  have  a 
responsibility  weightier  than  mine.  Prepare  to  meet  your 
God  !  '  " 

Forty-one  days  passed.    The  physician  reported  to  the 

28 


434  Time  and  Chance 

authorities  that  the  prisoner's  wounds  were  partially 
healed. 

John  Brown  wrote  to  Margaret  Brydges:  "  I  am  happy, 
happier  than  ever  before  in  my  life.  I  die  to-morrow,  and 
my  only  regret  is  that  in  this  life  I  cannot  repay  you  even 
in  part  for  all  you  have  done  for  me.  Farewell!  " 

The  morrow  came  with  cloudless  sky — a  splendid 
southern  winter  day.  The  blue  hills  stretched  off  in 
every  direction,  with  woods  upon  woods,  and  lazily  ran 
the  great  placid  river  between. 

The  prisoner,  still  heavily  chained,  was  helped  into  a 
wagon.  Surrounded  by  an  armed  force  of  over  two 
thousand  men,  with  cavalry  and  loaded  cannon,  the  line 
of  march  was  taken  up  for  the  place  of  execution,  two 
miles  away. 

The  old  man  refused  aid  in  getting  out  of  the  wagon, 
and  walking  up  to  the  gallows  steps,  the  strength  of  his 
youth  seemed  to  have  returned.  He  looked  up  at  the 
sky,  at  the  sun  in  the  heavens,  at  the  rolling  river  and  the 
miles  upon  miles  of  woods.  His  lips  moved  for  a 
moment  in  prayer;  and  then  he  said  to  the  guards: 

"  I  am  ready!" 

THE   END. 


ANNA  FULLER 

Author  of  ".1  Literary  Courl*!:i{\ 
"A  Venetian  June,"  "Pratt 
Portraits,"  etc. 


12° 


The  characters  in  this  novel  are 
Massachusetts  people  of  brains 
and  breeding  living  in  one  of  the 
pleasant  residential  suburbs  of 
Boston.  The  story  begins  with 
the  childhood  of  t lie  heroine  and 
of  her  chief  girl  friend  and  in 
timate,  who  plays  an  important 
part  throughout  the  book.  The 
other  persons  closely  concerned  in 
the  action  are  three  men  of  strongly 
contrasting  characters,  engaged 
respectively  in  the  pursuit  of  busi 
ness,  science,  and  amusement  ; 
and  a  grandmother  who,  at  the 
close  of  the  story,  has  attained 
her  fourscore  years  in  the  vigor 
ous  maintenance  of  the  best  New 
f-ngland  traditions. 


G.  P.  Putnam  s  Sons 

New  York  London 


THE  FOREST  SCHOOLMASTER 

By    PETER   ROSEGQER 
Authorized  Translation  by  Frances  E.  Skinner 


A  Human 

Document. 

N.  Y.  Times. 


Unique, 
Strong, 
Interesting. 

Buffalo  Commercial. 


Beautiful, 
Strong. 

Chicago  Times-Herald. 


better  selection  could  have 
been  made  in  introducing  this 
popular  Austrian  novelist  to  Eng 
lish  readers.  It  is  a  strange  sweet 
tale,  this  story  of  an  isolated  forest 
community  civilized  and  regenerated 
by  the  life  of  one  man. 

A  charming  new  book.  Let  none  who 
care  for  good  literature  fail  to  make  ac 
quaintance  with  the  gentle  schoolmaster 
of  the  forest. — Pittsburg  Post. 

As  an  exposition  of  primitive  human 
nature  the  book  excels. 

Worcester  Spy, 

Beautiful  and  strong,  strange  and 
sombre,  "  The  Forest  Schoolmaster  " 
belongs  to  the  high  class  literature. 

Detroit  Free  Press. 

Curiously  interesting  study. 

N.  Y.  Commercial  Advertiser. 

A  pleasing  rendering  of  the  most 
popular  romance  of  the  well-known 
Austrian  mountains. — Outlook. 


12tno 
Price,  $1.50 


Q.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 

PUBLISHERS 

NEW  YORK  LONDON 

27  and  29  W.  23d  St.       24  Bedford  St.,  Strand 


A  Wholesome,  Thrilling  Story 

f                                                                                    *} 

Dwellers  in  the  Hills 

By 

Melville  Davisson  Post 

Author  of  "The  Strange  Schemes  of  Randolph  Mason," 
"  The  Man  of  Last  Resort,"  etc. 

L                                                                                                           J 

SOME  COMMENTS 

"  Who  does  not  love  a  horse  ?     Here  is  a  story  chiefly  about 
horses,  but  not  a  little  about  scenery.     .     .     The  author's  vig 
orous  style  well  reflects  a  man's  mature  but  always  ardent  pas 
sion  for  nature.     Mr.  Post's  virile,  terse,  clean-cut  sentences  are, 
with  appropriateness,  printed  clearly."  —  The  Outlook. 

"  Mr.  Post  has  written  a  story  that  is  fresh  and  wholesome  and 
quite  as  full  of  adventure  as  the  average  reader  can  demand.    .    . 
He  impresses  upon  his  reader  with  consummate  skill  the  strong 
fascinations  that  the  mountains  have  for  men  who,  like  the 
writer,  have  spent  many  years  of  their  lives  among  them."  — 
N.  Y.  Journal. 

"  The  '  Dwellers  in  the  Hills'  promises  to  strike  a  new  note 
in  the  fiction  of  our  country.  "  —  Commercial  Advertiser. 

"It  is  evidently  largely  based  upon  personal  experience,  for 
no  one  could  well  evolve  from  his  unaided  imagination  such 
realistic  incidents,  so  strongly  tinged  with  local  color.      The 
dash  for  the  possession  of  the  cattle  .   .  is  vividly  described  and 
is  very  suggestive  of  some  of  the  wild  scenes  in    Lorna  Doone.' 
Mr.  Post  has  entered  a  new  field  in  literature  and  we  trust  he 
will  exploit  it  thoroughly.  "  —  Cambridge  Tribune. 

2d  Impression      Cloth,  12°,  276  pp.,  $1.25 

G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 

New  York                                                        London 

Our  European  Neighbours 

EDITED    BT    WILLIAM    HARBUTT    DAW8ON 

A  series  of  books  descriptive  of  the  Home  and  Social  Life  of 
Continental  Peoples,  not  statistical,  political,  or  controversial,  but 
descriptive  of  such  phases  of  life  as  are  peculiar  to  each  country. 
They  deal  with  the  Intellectual  Life  of  the  various  peoples,  their 
social  divisions  and  distinctions,  their  manners  and  customs,  their 
Industrial  Life,  Rural  Life,  Religious  Life,  Home  Life,  Amuse 
ments,  and  Local  Governments. 

13  .     Illustrated.     Each,  net  $1.20 
By  Mail,        ....      $1.30 


I FRENCH  LIFE  IN  TOWN  AND  COUNTRY 

By  HANNAH  LYNCH. 

"Miss  Lynch's  pages  are  thoroughly  interesting  and  suggestive.  Her  style, 
too.  is  not  common.  It  is  marked  by  vivacity  without  any  drawback  of  looseness, 
ana  resembles  a  stream  that  runs  strongly  and  evenly  between  walls.  It  is  at 
once  distinguished  and  useful.  .  .  .  Her  five-page  description  (not  dramatization) 
of  the  grasping  Paris  landlady  is  a  capital  piece  of  work.  .  .  .  Such  well-finished 
portraits  are  frequent  in  Miss  Lynch's  book,  which  is  small,  inexpensive,  and  of 
a  real  excellence.  —  The  London  A  cademy. 

II GERMAN  LIFE  IN  TOWN  AND  COUNTRY 

By  W.  H.  DAWSON,  author  of  "Germany  and  the  Ger 
mans,"  etc. 

"  The  book  is  as  full  of  correct,  impartial,  well-digested  and  well-presented  in 
formation  as  an  egg  is  of  meat.  One  can  only  recommend  it  heartily  and  without 
reserve  to  all  who  wish  to  gain  an  insight  into  German  life.  It  worthily  presents 
a  great  nation,  now  the  greatest  and  strongest  in  Europe." — Commercial 
A  dvertiser. 

III.— RUSSIAN  LIFE  IN  TOWN  AND  COUNTRY 

By  FRANCIS  H.  E.  PALMER,  sometime  Secretary  to  H.  H. 
Prince  Droutskop-Loubetsky  (Equery  to  H.  M.  the  Em 
peror  of  Russia). 

IV.— DUTCH  LIFE  IN  TOWN  AND  COUNTRY 

By  a  Resident  at  the  Hague. 


NEW  YORK— G.  P.  PUTNAM'S   SONS— LONDON 


000  676  922 


J479  F.        Time  and  Chance 


ELBERT  HUB  BARD 


Famous  old  John  Jkown  is  the  subject  of  Mr  Hubbard's  book.  All  the  fascina 
ting  and  inspiring  story  of  that  hero's  life — from  his  infancy  to  the  moment  on  the 
scaffold  when  his  lips  moved  first  in  prayer  and  then  spoke  aloud  to  the  guards, 
"I  am  ready" — Mr.  Ilubbard  has  told  with  a  full  heart  of  admiration.  He 
has  well  chosen  to  put  his  narrative  in  a  colloquial  style  ;  but  original  bits  of  his 
sardonic  or  witty  philosophy,  for  which  he  is  so  well  known  through  his  Philistine, 
meet  us  on  nearly  every  page.  And  it  is  to  be  added  that  while  Mr.  Hubbard  has 
given  free  play  to  his  fancy  in  putting  his  account  of  John  Brown's  life  in  the 
form  of  a  "  story,"  he  has  also  in  the  outlines  of  his  narrative  kept  close  to  fact. 

Bookloven  Bulletin. 


